


More than a Spark of Decency

by Corde_And_Dorme



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Badass!Tahl, Clueless Anakin, Dark Obi-Wan Kenobi, F/M, Fallen Jedi, First Time, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, I honestly don't know where this came from..., Jedi Anakin Skywalker, Jedi and Sith exist, Jedi don't have braids but face tattoos, LITERALLY, M/M, Manipulation, Seduction to the Dark Side, Sex, Sexy Times, Sith Acolyte, Sith Artifact, Sith Obi-Wan, Sith Shenanigans, Sith have full body tattoos, Sith tattoos, Slavery, So yes, There are only so many places to run away to, but not at a galactic scale, it's all happening on planet corsecant and no light speed travel yet, obikin, the coffeeshop au nobody asked for, this turned into a thing, was originally a one-shot, welp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-22 07:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corde_And_Dorme/pseuds/Corde_And_Dorme
Summary: Anakin Skywalker is a genius, an amputee, and a Jedi. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a con-man, sassy and smug, and a Sith.They meet at a caffe shop under their master's noses; the world will never be the same.





	1. More Than a Spark Of Decency

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue where this came from. Very alternative world though.  
> Basically, Sith and Jedi are the two reigning powers - the light and the dark side of the Force. No space travel, just constant, continuous battle for the world as everyone knows it. Force Sensitives are rare, probably close to like...100 children born on every continent, every year, with kids being tested base on which society they live in - Sith test later in childhood (5-7 years old), where Jedi test early (2-4 years old) but the Jedi figured out how to find them based on their blood before the Sith, not that that gave them a huge advantage since that was years ago (think the seventies). There is a truce of sorts, but it could collapse at any second.  
> So now we're in a modern universe, Sith and Jedi are known, but it's not a space story.

Headphones in, a song playing at half-volume; hands flittering and flicking over parts and bits and bobs; a few dozen conversation across the room: _that bitch said what about my man?;_ _You really think that’s going to work?; Order for... Kenobi?;_ Anakin Skywalker had his attention on half a dozen things, but most of his attention was focused on his hands. He was halfway done with perfecting a part he needed for his newest prosthetic, the last hours or days were always the most vital. The sketch was done, but he was turning it round and round and round, going over it in his mind's eye as well as tilting the 3-D sketch on the pad in front of him.

It was a perk of being part of the Jedi. Superior technology. His lips quirked at that.

There were many perks to being a Jedi.

 _Please? Thank you_ ; the steady drip of coffee being filtered; _Will that be all, sir?_

Leaning back, Anakin gave his eyes a break. His stuttering prosthetic, still new, still chafing, but adequate at doing the few actions he’s programmed into it by heart - one of which is to gently massage his eyeballs, so they don’t go too dry. He can’t wait to finish his newest prosthetic, with the new neurological implants he should, theoretically, be able to _feel_. It’s leaps and bounds ahead of any other tech around. Master Yoda had been impressed with the theory and couldn’t wait to see if the guinea pig was as cute as Anakin was describing it as.

A phone is ringing; The door opens with a jingle above its springs; the world spins on.

It’s easy to lose himself in work, even listening as he is to everything around him. His mind is always spinning round and round and round. Not just because of the Force around him, but because that’s just how it’s always been.

A chair scrapes - too close, too close to be anywhere but - Anakin blinks and looks up into the startling blue eyes of a man right across from him. A ginger man with cropped hair that falls just into his eyes, a full beard, and a cup of - a sniff makes Anakin think it’s caff - caff or tea. A stranger.

“Hello there,” The man greets like it’s the most natural thing to just sit across from him.

Anakin raised a brow, his mind spinning. He doesn’t need to look around to know that the coffee shop is about half-full, rush hour long past, and that there are many other places to sit. Yet, the stranger had chosen across from him. Across from him, at a table piled with data pads and papers and sketches.

He’d be suspicious if he were anything but an Apprentice with grand ideas. But he is just an Apprentice. And he does have grand ideas. Still, he’s no one important.

“Hello,” Anakin finally replies back, because Mace would have his _hide_ if he wasn’t the polite, perfect apprentice he should be. Not that he was, anyway, but the thought was what counted with Master Windu. Cocking his head, but making no move, he adds. “Would you like me to clear you some space?”

The cup is gone from his lips, the stranger’s face is now clear, and Anakin is frustrated to realize it’s _familiar_ but not familiar enough to bring forth a name, or a place, or a time from Anakin’s mind. And Anakin thinks he would never, ever, forget the twist of lips into a smirk like that. He’s pretty. On the cusp of beautiful and handsome, like Anakin had been told he was also on. He wouldn’t forget a meeting with this man. Not his eyes. Not his beard. Nor the shape of the man’s nose, or the way his hair falls - he just wouldn’t. It’s un-Anakin-like.

“It’s fine,” The man is slow to reassure. “I’ve just noticed you here, often enough, and though I’d come ask what it is you’re working on so hard. Always with your nose in a book and all. And, the headphones, too,” The man waves, idly at his own head.

That’s when Anakin realizes that he still has his own pair in.

Not sure why he feels flustered, only that he does, he pulls them out to settle into his hood. His prosthetic getting tangled when the tug is a little too hard. Fingers on the fritz, again.

“I’m working on a new prosthetic that combines neurological implants with dura-steel cables, around a gold frame,” Anakin says, and he’s not quite sure why he says it. Often enough people want to know what’s he working on, he’s brilliant, they say, a genius, and everyone likes to pick his brain. Then, and he’s not sure why he does this either - he levels his own arm up to show off the substandard living he’s already endured. “Prototype should be done in a week,”

The stranger blinks at him before those lips tug up into a genuine smile.

“Really? That’s...” He shakes himself a little. “ _Fascinating_ ,”

Then he’s leaning forward.

“Can I see?”

“The sketch or the arm?”

The lips twitch again, but he’s already smiling, so Anakin can only assume he wants to laugh.

“The arm,”

Anakin’s used to people always asking after his arm, wanting to touch it, wanting to prod at it, wanting to fix it. So it’s no hardship to hand it over, but he draws the line at detaching it. Detaching is a bitch on a good day and would take a long while to recalibrate, which he only ever did in his lab, never in a caffe shop.

The stranger is shaking his head, letting go of his arm, and huffing. “Amazing. Technology sure has come far,”

 _Not far enough,_ Anakin wants to say, but he doesn’t.

It’s not polite, he knows, to talk about all the many, many ideas that bounce around in his head without prompting. Not about space travel. Or about advanced medicine that’s light years away. Or about the Jedi. And certainly not about the Sith. Nor about the unseen, often unvoiced war between the two factions. And especially not about the very visible war between the two.

Anakin’s temple is on one of two continents where the Sith and Jedi share ownership and borders: America. The Jedi have North, the Sith have South. The other continent is, surprisingly enough, Australia.  Anakin’s temple is as near to the border as one can get without actually stumbling over it.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Anakin says, as he pulls his arm back.

“Didn’t give it. Sorry, terribly rude of me,” Then the man is offering up his hand across the piles on the table. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi,”

Obi-Wan. Kenobi. It’s as foreign a name as any other. Still, Mace had instilled politeness in him, even if it's stilted, even if it's sometimes slow to come, even if it's sometimes all wrong.

“Anakin Skywalker,” He says, as he grabs the hand in front of him.

The Force awakens around him like a fat cat. All roiling, smooth motions that are all of the sudden to fast and too quick, since before there had been no movement at all. Usually content to just be around him, the Force stretched at the touch of Obi-Wan’s fingers to his own - it’s like electricity sizzles under the surface of his skin, like the world narrows and quiets, like nothing matters except for the feeling of hand in hand.

 _Oh_ , Anakin thinks to himself somewhat dazedly. His eyes raising from their clasped hands to the strangers. _Oh, this is not good. Not good at all._

Based on the way that Obi-Wan Kenobi’s eyes are wide, mirroring his, there is a general feeling he’s right.

Because like knows like. And Anakin has never before met this man, this Obi-Wan Kenobi, which means - of course, it’s just Anakin’s luck - that the man across from him is Force Sensitive. It’s just his luck, that years, decades even before Anakin had been born they’d perfected the process of testing for Force-Sensitiveness in children. And, of course, since Anakin had never seen this man in any Jedi Temples (those with the Force were not _that_ plentiful, no matter what the Confederacy claimed), that left precious few options.

Which meant, simply, the man across from him was either Feral or a Sith.

The man also realized the same. Probably in reverse.

The world ceased turning. Things in Anakin’s brain quieted as he focused not on every little thing around him, like he usually did, but on the feel of skin against skin. Laser focused. On the feel of the Force greeting another one of its children through Anakin. On Obi-Wan’s bright blue eyes.

 _Shouldn't they be gold? Or red? Or yellow?_ Anakin wondered, faintly, nearly hysterical.

Neither pulled back right away.

Not even when another moment passed.

Then three. Then five. Nearly ten seconds and Anakin realized that neither of them knew what to do. Relief flooded him then. That, at least, meant that the man in front of him was probably just an Apprentice, too. Not a Lord or the Master - though there had been whisperings that the Sith Master had changed for nearly two years.

“Well, this is -” Anakin speaks.

The man speaks at the same time. “This is - “

They both fall silent.

Still, neither has let go of each other’s hands. It’s a preventative measure, at this point. Neither can reach for their weapons - Anakin’s not stupid enough to think a Sith would come, even undercover, without a weapon.

“It’s just my luck, you know,” Obi-Wan says across from him. “First outing by myself and I find a Jedi,”

“It’s just my luck,” Anakin finds himself echoing. “That I happen to find a Sith at my favorite caff-shop,”

There is something lighting the stranger’s face, and that smirk is back. “Do you have a lightsaber? I’ve heard all you Jedi have gotten them,”

Anakin quirked a brow. It’s common knowledge, at least in Confederacy states. “Only the Masters,”

“Pity, but same on our end,”

And still, they hold hands.

“Would it be too much to ask you not report me?”

Well. That’s interesting. Absolutely flummoxed, Anakin finds himself asking. “What’s in it for me?”

This seems to be the right thing to say as the man’s smile brightens considerably, and he leans forward. Anakin, swears to the Force itself, that he had never seen anyone seductively lean forward like that. A smooth arc, shoulders open and eyes bright as a teasing smile twitched along his mouth. The Jedi nearly blushed but managed to keep it to just a light flush as Obi-Wan tugged his arm, forcing him a little closer too. Close enough that others would have to clearly work at eavesdropping.

“How about some _Sith secrets_?”

Well, that sounds like a path straight down to the darkest pits of the dark side itself. A path any sane Jedi would run from, or at least veer from.

“You really think there are that many Sith secrets the Jedi don’t know already?” Anakin asks, but against his better judgment, he leans forward more. He’s always been a little shit, after all. And a genius. And a brainiac. It’s knowledge, that’s being offered, not those smiles Kenobi’s throwing his way - but knowledge of the Sith.

“Oh, I know so,” Kenobi purred. “Plus, it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong. There’s technically nothing... illegal about a Sith crossing territories. Just... severely frowned upon,”

That sounded like avoidance. Sounded exactly like something Anakin could get behind. The subtle shifting of rules, of bucking the system, of tweaking wording just enough to be considered entirely new meaning. He speaks like a politician and Anakin knows that’s dangerous, he really, really does, but he finds that this game is enticing. These few secret tidbits he’s gotten from the Sith already promise a far more enlightened and fun existence for the next few months than anything Anakin could convince.

At least, until one of them is caught.

“Not to mention,” Kenobi adds with an eyebrow wiggle. “I’m very interested in hearing more about this _prosthetic -”_ The way his eyes drag over Anakin’s mechanical arm makes the man want to shiver. _“ -_ you’ve got here,”

Mace would have kittens if he could hear this conversation right now.

Anakin blinks. Mace _would_ have kittens.

And, well, has there ever been a better reason to do something than to piss one’s Master off so royally that the chance of being grounded might actually last indefinitely?

Anakin’s leaning forward before he can stop himself. They’re inches from each other. As close as they can be without either of them getting up from their chairs over the piles of research Anakin has blocking them.

“I’m in.”

Let it not be said that Anakin Skywalker doesn’t take life by the horns.

* * *

Master Qui-Gon’s mission for him is simple:

Go and befriend someone in the city worth befriending.

Surprisingly, the list of people worth befriending is short, but not exhausted. Aid to a politician whose relentless and cutthroat. A genius, any will do. A hacker, because, of course. An heiress. Someone who deals with smugglers, a middleman. Hell, even a corrupt Jedi. Though Obi-Wan would first stumble on the lost Temples of Korriban before he found a Jedi who would willingly keep his secret.

The mission is to build connections. It’s to flesh out his training in a meaningful way. Sith are known for their silver tongues, for their whiles, for their seductive personalities. They are known for diving in head first, for fleshing out passion before control, to be ambitious rather than kind.

Force. One of Obi-Wan’s first lessons had been how to use his childish face, back when he’d been but ten years old, to convince a Confederate Citizen to give him a meal. And **then** steal his credit card.

Even still, for all his training, he’s got to admit - this is one baffling situation he’s found himself in.

Yes, he turned up the charm and, yes, he’d basically convinced the man in front of him not to tattle to his superiors, but Obi-Wan knows it’s not because of him. He didn’t convince Anakin well enough, he knows that. Anakin is doing this because he’s a rebellious little Jedi shit not because Obi-Wan is a suave and seductive Sith. That almost makes Obi-Wan want to sleep with the man just to hammer home he _could_.

If he wanted to.

The Jedi has long since taken his hand back, both of them watching each other with distrust but not quite watchful gazes. A tentative peace created out of nothing but stupidity and brash will between them. Yet, that’s more than Obi-Wan had thought to ask for.

“I really did just think you were just some crazy genius,” Obi-Wan stated, trying to further convince the man of his innocence.

Skywalker snorts.

“That was clear when you actually _shook my hand_ ,”

Hindsight. Everyone’s always saying it’s twenty-twenty.

“Well _excuse me_ for not knowing Jedi Apprentices hung out around this area,”

“We’re half a mile away from the nearest Temple,”

Obi-Wan’s mouth shut at that. “Oh. I... I did not know that,”

“Clearly,”

He glares at him, and for some strange reason that makes Skywalker relax.

“So then, what are you here for?” The man asks him, with a quirky lopsided smile. “Hoping to seduce some young, _hot_ genius into telling you all their brilliant ideas so the Sith can steal them and take over the world?”

Obi-Wan finds himself charmed regardless of not wanting to be.

“Something like that,” He admitted. “More along the lines of befriend. No need to hop in anyone’s bed. We don’t _all_ make such hasty decisions,”

Skywalker snorts. “Don’t we?”

Whatever Obi-Wan thought Jedi were like, this was not it. He’d been taught they were all uptight assholes who, given enough time, would only clench up harder into a conversation rather than relax and let sleeping dogs lie. Skywalker was not like that. He was... well, he was way more Sith than he probably wanted to believe or know. Maybe he was just curious, maybe he was just an idiot - Obi-Wan certainly didn’t know.

Obi-wan certainly didn’t care.

“So,” He took a confident sip of his tea. “The prosthetics?”

He tried not to be moved when Anakin's eyes lit up, and he started to speak about the technology spread out in front of him. He understood very little of the techo-jargon, but he was smart and he understood far more than the Jedi probably thought. What the man - the teenager - was outlining to him was something that seemed completely understandable. He explained it made it seem like it was common sense, that this had always been the way of the world.

Obi-Wan knew better, he really, did, but he couldn't help but genuinely lean forward, listening intently.

Not just because it was a mission.


	2. Perhaps Not That Decent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Anakin agree to meet and share 'forbidden' knowledge.  
> Anakin tries to be a good Jedi.  
> Obi-Wan plots to make Anakin Fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Yeah. I had a lot of time and I just - uhm - kind of wrote like 22,000 words? Eight chapters? It also turned out A LOT darker than I was originally going for but well, them's the breaks. Like. Wow, Obi-Wan calm down there. Reign in that niggling darkness a bit, would'ya? You might scare away the kiddies.  
> Inspiration for the tone of this fic (and a lot of re-reads while writing) goes to imaginaryanon's "wicked thing" as well as Glares "Negotiation".

“So we’re in agreement?” The Sith asked eyebrow raised invitingly. “We don’t speak about each other?”

The Jedi cocked his head.

“I won’t say anything to my Master,” he assured. “But I **am** aware of how you Sith like your... _subterfuge_...” He says it like it’s a promise. “Just give me fair warning if you’re going to try to bring your Master to one of our meetings, huh?”

Obi-Wan jolted, eyes widening imperceptible.

“Hey now - “ He tried to joke, to smooth his thoughts in the Force. “I would never.”

Except he would. He totally, totally would. This is a mission. He could see his Master’s jaw-dropping in his mind's eye when he revealed just who he had managed to seduce with _just conversation_. Never before had a Sith managed to have a discussion with a Jedi, then be found out, and not be turned in. A simple mission it was supposed to be: find a target, befriend target, make a lifelong friend that could be used. So Anakin Skywalker was a mission. Albeit, a unique mission with a pretty face, but a mission all the same. Or at least, that's what he tells himself.

Yet... he finds he doesn’t want to tell his Master. Doesn’t want to see his Master’s eyes light up with glee at finding a poor sap to use and abuse. Doesn’t want to share this Jedi who is smart, who flirts like a Sith, who banters like they’ve known each other for years, who allows Obi-Wan to sit with him. Who shares as if he were an open book.

Anakin seems to understand he’s lying, but not about what. Or even to who. He just cocks his head, collecting his things and packing up. There are many pads in front of him. Obi-Wan wonders, as Anakin ponders his words, how they will even fit in his backpack.

“You did tell me you were trying to seduce me before we revealed ourselves with that handshake business,” he shook his head with a rueful smile. “I’d appreciate some honesty,”

Obi-Wan finds that he wants to give him honesty.

It’s a completely foreign feeling. Wanting to be honest with someone who is not his Master.

So he says. “I’ll let you know,”

It’s all he can really give, but somehow it’s enough for Anakin.

* * *

Anakin’s aim is perfect as he tosses his bag onto his spiny-rolly-chair, making it twirl and slot into place under his desk with pinpoint accuracy, only a nudge of the Force to make it so. With a soft thwump, he landed on his bed in a sprawl to stare at the ceiling.

 _Had that really happened?_ He questioned blinking up at his star-studded ceiling. _Did I... Did I just really meet a Sith?_

_I think I did._

It was... it was utterly unheard of. Meeting a Sith so far from their home. And the Sith had been far, indeed. The Temple that Anakin lived in with his Master Mace was on the border of the territory, yes, but it was still a good five miles inland, and located on a _mountain_ , for Force sake!

The Sith were a lot more independent than the Jedi. They left their temple often and not to help their people. They did it for greed, for power, for money; all things that lead to the dark side. And they did it all just to eventually reach that unobtainable spot at the top of their hierarchy.

One Master. Lords. Apprentices.

In comparison, the Jedi were complicated.

Elders those that made up the Council. Masters. Knights. Apprentices. And then those that didn’t reach the rank of Knight by the age of twenty-five were trained in other pursuits the Jedi found admirable.

His comm. chirped on his wrist.

“Ugh,” Anakin sighed, flopping his hand, his wrist, and arm above his head to get to the message. It was a new design he was working with: voice-activated but with a wider variety of commands. The newest memory chip could hold a pretty impressive AI. He commanded. “Query: New Message?”

Comm. units were still clunky and required many voice commands to work. Very specific voice commands. As such, the unit beeped and then began reading out the message.

“Reminder Apprentice Skywalker: sparring session with Master Windu in fifteen minutes.”

 _Kark!_ Anakin thought quickly throwing himself forward. He had forgotten. The time had slipped away from him because of... a certain Sith Apprentice. Their conversation had flowed so well... had begun organically and had ended just the same. They’d laughed, they’d teased, and in the midst of it, Anakin had felt... well, he didn’t know what to call it?

Pleasure? The absence of that chasm of loneliness? Embarrassment? That a Sith he knew for only an hour, two tops, could get under his skin so quickly...

It didn’t matter. He probably would never see the Sith again. Even though they had a deal that they would share ‘information,’ Anakin was acutely aware of what the Sith could do. They were murderers, though Obi-Wan was just an Apprentice. They were power hungry and cruel... even though Obi-Wan hadn’t seemed like that. Perhaps a spot of mischief, sure, but nothing so dire.

Anakin shook himself, shrugged off his civilian clothing and shimmied into his sparring gear, a light take on the usual durable Jedi robes. His Master would not take him being late well so he would not be.

Still, even his Master wasn’t a mind reader - so he turned over the puzzle that was the Sith.

* * *

Obi-Wan knew he didn’t have to sneak back into his apartment he was sharing with his Master, Qui-Gon, but he also knew he couldn’t use the front door. It was just not done. Mostly because it was boobytrapped during the hours of nine at night to eleven in the morning. Also because it was part of his training. If Qui-Gon found his time of entrance, as well as his method of access, then it would be considered off limits same as the front door.

The ways to avoid this was to come between the hours outlined, or to sneak in, or to come when Qui-Gon himself wasn’t home.

The window in the living room, as well as the bathroom window, were already off limits. Which left his only real method of entrance without getting creative the balcony. Which was not kept unlocked, though that was peanuts compared to the fact that it was in the sightlight of his Master’s bedroom. Luckily all the lights, as well as the holo-tv, were off. If he was lucky, his Master might not be home.

With that thought, he took out a paperclip and got to work.

As he worked the lock, he allowed his mind to wander to the Jedi he had just met. Anakin Skywalker. They seemed to be the same age, well matched, even if the Jedi was smarter than a whip. Obi-Wan made up for his lack of technical knowledge by his contacts, his charm, and his ability to charm the scales off a ratsnake. He excelled at those things, just like Anakin excelled at being distractingly beautiful.

And it was true.

It was what had drawn Obi-Wan to the man in the first place. Those blond curls. The way he was focused, lips pursed as he worked the problem in front of him. How he’d bitten his bottom lip as he became increasingly submerged. He had refined, delicate features, which had reminded Obi-Wan of a girl he knew from China.

Satine Man’loria. The daughter of a dignitary he’d had a fling with; specifically on his Master’s orders - the first of many - a peaceful-protester with ideals of non-violence and hopes for a _better world_. He sneered thinking about it. She had been sweet, a surprise for sure, born into a family drowning in the blood of their enemies - and she wished for a better life. She was stubborn, too, and Obi-Wan had no doubts that once she inherited the family business, there would be a sweeping change in the underworld...

But, for now. Anakin.

Anakin, reminded him of her only in looks, for even as engrossed with his work as he was - it was clear he was a warrior. Calloused hands. Well built, if not too lean body, with defined muscles that Obi-Wan knew, were made to dance through battle like it was a particularly effortless ballet. Focused. Yet, his hands had tapped out the beat he was listening to, curling and twitching. His head had twitched from side to side as if he was actively listening to his surroundings. As if he was aware of it all, watching, half-knowledgeable about everything going on around him at all times.

When Obi-Wan had pulled out the chair, he had looked up immediately.

He wondered, for a moment, who the kids Master was. Who was on the other end of the leash for such a wild and untamed presences? Who allowed such a bright presences of the Force, free reign?

And how had no other Sith picked up on it?

It wasn’t done nearly as much, but Sith seducing Jedi to the dark side was still practiced. In fact, it was a badge of honor, practically a knighting offense. Seducing a person for sex was easy. Seducing a Force-Sensitive into giving up their identity as a Jedi, as a morally good being, was another **_entirely_ **.

Then the lock gave the tiniest twang in the Force, a warning he was about to make a sound, and he had only second to move. All thoughts of Anakin fled his mind as he focused on getting into the apartment without awakening Qui-Gon. Single-minded, the lock twitched, Obi-Wan moved; lifting the sliding glass door as much as he was able so it made little sound, Obi-Wan created only a crack to slip in and then closed the door behind him.

With soft footsteps, nearly silent, he slipped onto the couch to wait for the telltale change of breathing that signaled his Master had awoken.

He needn’t worry, for Qui-Gon wasn’t even home.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Obi-Wan made quick work of grabbing a snack, snatching up the note his Master had left him to explain his absence, and then sequestering himself away in his room.

It was a pity Qui-Gon wasn’t home. He had so much to tell him, after all. Even if Obi-Wan wouldn’t bring his Master to their meetings... he would still like his Master’s advice. Not for no good reason, either. His Master was one of the few Sith to successfully seduce a Jedi to the dark. And a _Master_ at that! Lady Tahl was Qui-Gon’s Sith Acolyte, the name for all Jedi who had been successfully tamed or any citizen that had been, and she was surprisingly vicious, used by the Sith for assassinations when needed.

Whatever Lady Tahl had been as a Jedi, she was nothing like that as a Sith.

Master Qui-Gon had explained it to him once - how he’d gained the upper hand in their little tete-a-tetes. The dark was infinitely superior, he’d told Obi-Wan when he’d been but twelve. Sith were stronger, smarter, and more willing to do what needed to be done to win. Including, cheat. Which is precisely what he had done with Tahl. Their affair had started out passionate, forbidden as it was, and it was easy to keep that going - especially when Qui-Gon started to bring a Sith Artifact known as the Lazarus Fog, to their bed.

Six months later, Lady Tahl couldn’t stop questioning the Order she had been given to as a child, nor her place in the world, or the way the Light was started to feel... _less_. She was quick to anger and panicking about hiding that fact from her Masters. Master Qui-Gon had set up an assassination attempt on himself, paying off some low-level bounty hunters - and when the time had come Lady Tahl had snapped. Clean in two. The dark eating the last bit of light left within her.

The rest was history.

It was a secret, of course, from only Lady Tahl herself, and even then, it wasn’t a very well kept one. The rest of the Sith knew the story well. And, even if it was rare, all Sith knew the best ways to win over Jedi. Also if they never found a Jedi susceptible to such coercion. There were many Sith artifacts that had been used over the years to turn Jedi. Many worked merely by being in proximity of a Jedi, able to turn them, make them question their place in the world without any real work on the Sith’s part.

Obi-Wan knew he could seduce Anakin without.

Sitting on his bed, biting into his snack-bar Obi-Wan read the note.

[Something has come up Obi-Wan. I have been called back by Tahl. Expect me back in two weeks, no less. I look forward to your report,]

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan thought to himself, aloud. “Well, that sucks,”

It wasn’t like Obi-Wan had never been left by his Master, especially since he was entering into his tenth year of his Apprenticeship, with his Trial coming closer every day. Adding to the fact that he had wanted to speak with Qui-Gon about acquiring a few Sith Artifacts to aid in ‘training’ his Jedi, this was not a good time.

He _could_ tame the Jedi without, but - come on, what was he? Fair and just? A Jedi? He sneered to himself. _P_ **_uh_ ** _-lease_. A Sith was superior because they knew what was at stake, and exactly how much they were willing to trade for said power and prestige. Still, not ideal timing.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he should risk detection to send him a message. At least, not an immediate message. Email was fine. As a channel that was not being constantly watched, it was the safest option. Tack on the fact that Qui-Gon and himself have their own code, and there was virtually no risk of detection. It was just slow as Sith Hells.

With a sigh, he got up and plopped himself at his desk as he composed a message.

* * *

“Distracted, you are, my young Apprentice,” Master Windu told him as he parried a particularly badly timed strike. As it failed, he tapped the back of Anakin’s right thigh. “And dead.”

Anakin stumbled forward onto one knee, and stayed there, panting. “Apologies, Master,”

“Hmmm, you only get this way when your mind is so clearly occupied,”

It sounded like a rebuke. It sounded like because it was.

Anakin stayed silent, face turned towards the ground as he allowed his Master to subtly poke him in the Force, trying to find what was bothering him. When he finally sighed, exhausted and disappointed, he let Anakin rise.

“Come. Meditate with me.”

Looking up, Master Windu was already stepping to the provided mats in the room, and Anakin groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was meditate. Still, he rose and followed, only to collapse onto his mat in exhaustion.

It was silent. His Master had long since stopped walking him verbally through how to descend into meditation, he wasn’t a child after all, but he missed his voice all the same. Still, he wanted to be a good Apprentice, and so he settled into the unnatural feeling that meditation always brought to him.

It was peace, yes, but it felt forced. Calm, the way nature talked back, showed him the cycle that was life, but it was always so hard to focus. His mind was on a hundred different things. On everything and on nothing. His Master could never understand that, and it showed how he still managed to be disapproving afterward.

If only he could be with his robotics. His bits, his bobs, his motherboards, his joints and levers, his buttons and wires. His solder kit and his duct tape. Something to keep his hands occupied. Something to keep him going, rather than stagnant, something that was useful, not just... alive, taking up space. Alive wasn’t enough for Anakin. It never would be.

It hadn’t been for his mother’s Master nor his own before he’d come to the Temple, so why would it change now?

Master Windu called it a weakness, that he couldn’t power through his own mind to quiet the world down to just him and the Force. Anakin didn’t understand how it wasn’t a strength. How the Force, always whispering, always nagging, always shouting so loud - how it was a bad thing. He had a feeling, too, that the Force was a little nonplus about the whole thing, but also annoyed.

Perhaps that was just his Master though.

“You are still troubled,”

Anakin didn’t flinch. He knew his Master’s ways. Abruptly talking, hoping to garner a reaction as if he had been lost within himself, was nothing new.

“I have many worries and troubles, Master,” Anakin admitted. A flash of ginger hair, blue eyes, and that sinfully quirky mouth. Anakin buried that. Breathed out peace and calm, breathed in a settling, a brief moment of struggle. “My prosthetic is ready to be made. I am... excited and terrified. If it works, then we are just one step closer to creating a better world. If it doesn’t, I...”

“You’re anxious,” Windu agreed. “Release it into the Force,”

It was such a brusque order, but also a comfort. It was his Master’s way. And there was an order to it, an order to the world, that Anakin always found solace in.

He did as ordered.

As always, it seemed to catch in his chest, his anxiousness, his nervousness, before it lurched and seemed to dissipate. Leaving him empty. Empty. Empty. Empty.

Breath out.

When he breathed in, what came to rest within himself was calm, peace, and light.

He smiled, a twitch of his lips, as the world quieted around him. He was so close to that ever elusive, that ever moving goal, of peace and serenity. That ever-changing pinnacle of Jedi-dom. The one thing that if he just grabbed, if he only succeeded in, then perhaps his Master’s pride he could finally have. Just as he reached for it, just as it was within reach, the Force came back with a vengeance and pulled him right back in.

He could hear the traffic at the bottom of the mountain.

The loud breathing of the couple next door.

The way the light hit the front of his eyelids and sparkled through the near translucent skin.

It was the world intruding. It felt, it tasted, it was -

Failure.

* * *

[ _Hope you’re having a fun vacation with Auntie Tahl_ !] Obi-Wan began his email, smirking as he typed in the code only Qui-Gon would know for absolute sure what it meant. [ _The air conditioning unit is broken, but at least the patio door works. I met a rather strange duck at the caff today, I’ll tell you all about it when you return home. I was curious though. Do you still have that old speeder? There’s a new model out, and I think we should go look at it. I won’t bother you any longer. I know how Tahl is!_

_Hugs and kisses,_

_Your nephew Obi_ ]

He sent it without a second thought, not needing to read over it. It was composed entirely of code, after all.

And translated roughly to: _Can’t believe you left me with only a note. I still managed to get in without you knowing, Master, so take that. My mission is proceeding as planned, I have much to tell you, and much advice to consult you on. Bring back any artifacts for seducing a Force-sensitive, please. I have plans. We need to spar when you get back, I’m feeling restless. Obi-Wan._

Leaning back in his chair, stretching once and cracking his back, Obi-Wan rose to go check out what supplies Qui-Gon had left him and if he needed to go to the store anytime soon.

He wondered, as he was beginning to suspect he wouldn’t be able to stop for the foreseeable future, what Anakin was doing. He had talked at length about his prosthetic and the tech behind it. It was light years ahead of anything the public was able to purchase, and especially the Sith. The treaty only went so far, after all. And anything that the Jedi really didn’t want to get into Sith hands was well guarded.

Most medicine, technology advancements, as well as some tech in the public sector of their continents were only available through the black market. Not that that stopped the Sith. As soon as they got something, they had it reverse engineered within a year. That was still a year, of course, but it was better than nothing. He didn’t know if the same was true of their tech, with the Jedi, but it must be because he had seen the bacta patches on sale for dirt cheap.

If they had Anakin on their side, that time would be cut in half further, Obi-Wan knew. He knew, also, of what a great warrior they would gain. Anakin was built for battle, he’d seen it under his unassuming clothing. The muscles, the brain - Force, he was the whole package.

It was such a tantalizing thought. Anakin, with bright yellow-orange eyes, kneeling in front of him.

Obi-Wan felt himself growing hard. He contemplated relieving himself but thought it better to... wait. After all, seducing Anakin was going to be a battle. He needed all his wits about him, all his weapons sharpened.

Qui-Gon had just wanted him to find a simpleton to manipulate, to hone his skills.

Instead, he found a pet project. And he was looking forward to it. Oh. Was he ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what'cha guys think?  
> Too much world-building? I know one comment said that. It was also back when it was only a one-shot though, so any feedback on that would be nice. :)  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. All in Good Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week later, Anakin meets his Sith by chance. Obi-Wan begins his seduction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than I am used to posting. I updated my main story, and I plan to have this one finished (here's to hoping) by the end of the week. So, I have everything written but the conclusion.   
> I have no clue why I do this to myself...  
> I'm having a lot of fun writing completely-unapologetically-evil!Obi-Wan Kenobi though - so I hope you enjoy!

The next time Anakin and Obi-Wan met it was in that same caff shop, the  _ R2D2 _ , a week later, but it was Obi-Wan who was there first. Drinking a cup of steaming tea, a pad in his hand, with his legs crossed at the ankle, and looking, for all the world, as if he hadn’t a care.

Since Anakin was now the initiator of contact, he stayed back for a moment to look at his... Sith friend.

Force if his Master could see him now.

Anakin had kept his meeting with Obi-Wan a secret, as he had said he would. Nobody had even noticed a change within himself, and that, more than anything, relaxed Anakin. Made him realize he could do this, if the Sith managed to show up again - he could really have these meetings to gain Sith knowledge.

From the handsome Sith himself.

He couldn’t be more than five years older than Anakin, certainly not the same age. Distinctly not twenty; he had an air about him... knowledgeable, older, more settled in his skin. He was smaller than Anakin, but that didn’t necessarily make the Jedi believe he would have the upper hand if they were to spar. He was a Sith Apprentice, after all. 

His ginger hair was a lot lighter than Anakin had previously thought. Those eyes, half-lidded, but a brilliant shade of blue. With his relatively loose pants, jacket, and numerous layers he fit in with the place like any other citizen of Utopia. It didn’t surprise Anakin, mostly because he knew Sith robes were similar to Jedi robes, in every way except for the fact they rarely wore them outside their own temple. Where the Jedi wanted to be noticed, the Sith wanted to hide. It was in both of their natures.

Anakin fingered the tattoos on the side of his neck nearly hidden under his mane of hair, completely easy to miss; pale blue, purple, and green lines that denoted his Jedi prospects. Once he reached knighthood, they would grow to his cheek. Master status increased even further until they crossed nose and eyebrow. And the Elders were pieces of living art, all different and vibrantly alive with the Force.

He wondered, half-watching Obi-Wan now as he got in line for a drink if the Sith tattoos mimicked the Jedi. Or did they mark their apprentices some other way? Apparently, it wasn't displayed on their neck, for Obi-Wan was utterly bare. Anakin had looked.

It didn’t take long for his sugary sweet latte to be made (he liked it sugary because he needed the extra energy for everything he had planned for today) and once they called out his name, he snatched the drink up. Obi-Wan didn’t look to be aware of his presence, wasn’t aware of the constant thrummmmm of everything the Force offered up so readily to him, so he took a deep breath and waltzed over to his Sith.

Just as Obi-Wan had done to him last week, he pulled out the chair opposite him and sat.

“Anakin,” The Sith greeted him warmly as his eyes darted from his pad. They crinkled at the edges, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. Anakin’s mouth dried. So very few people were genuinely happy to see him. Obi-Wan straightened as he held out a single finger. “One moment, if you please. I must finish this chapter or I won’t be able to collect my thoughts the next time I open it,”

The Jedi could understand that. For all of his smarts, his attention span could wax and wane like the pull of the moon. On a cycle, but without rhyme or reason. Anakin didn’t mind sitting back and allowing his cup of caff to cool, he liked it lukewarm anyway. Made it easier to gulp down. He got a closer look at Obi-Wan’s face.

It was a shame he liked what he saw. 

Then, from there, it only took a few more seconds for Obi-Wan to finish.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan tossed the datapad down. “Finally,” 

“Interesting material?” Anakin asked, feeling all wrong-footed. This was new territory, after all. It was one thing for a Sith to approach him, he was a Jedi after all, but another thing entirely to be the one seeking out a Sith. And at a caff shop of all places...

“Hardly,” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “It’s about the Sith and Jedi treaties,”

Anakin perked up at that. That was a dry read any day of the week. “Why would you read  _ that _ ?”

“I was curious about the loopholes the Sith and Jedi both tried to write into it. So far, I’ve found about five,”

Anakin spluttered, leaning forward. “ _ Five _ ?” he asked incredulously. Then what he said caught up with him. “For which side?”

Obi-Wan looked particularly smug. “Both sides, of course. If there is a loophole for one, most of the language manages to make it clear neither side has the advantage, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that each side is at a  _ disadvantage _ ,”

_ Politics _ , Anakin thought in disgust. If it were up to him, he would have seen battle already, but nooo - the Sith and the Jedi just had to be in one of their usual century-long lulls of peace. It was almost disgraceful, how often the Sith put forward a treaty of peace, and then backstabbed anyone they could get their hands on. Yet it was not the Jedi way to treat the future as an absolute, but more as a continually changing stream. So each time, they accepted. And each time, they were betrayed.

“I don’t even know why the Jedi or the Sith bother with such things,” Anakin rolled his eyes, though he kept his voice lower than he would usually. “It’s not like the battle between light and dark is going to go away anytime soon. I am still a Jedi. You are still a Sith. That’s not changing anytime soon,”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan had that endlessly amused look on his face. As if he found every word from Anakin’s mouth a treat. “You would rather be in battle?”

Looking at his caff and then back to Obi-Wan, Anakin couldn’t help but sass. “Well, not at this very second. I would  _ rather  _ like to finish my caffeine,”

The Sith sighed, but his eyes sparkled. 

“I suppose you’re right, to both of your thoughts,” Obi-Wan admitted. “The Sith and Jedi should be at war, it is practically dictated in our codes, and yet our leaders have united for a ceasefire... I agree that it is, at its base, stupid of them,” He sighed, again, as if the world was on his shoulders. “Yet, the world is still reeling from the last time the Sith and the Jedi crossed blades,”

Not that either of them at been alive at the time, Anakin thought privately. Even if Obi-Wan were somehow in his early thirties (doubtful), he would have been safe from the last war. Nearly forty-four years since the last time the Sith had tried to overstep their borders and take what was not theirs. Practically Anakin’s whole life since an assassination attempt, to boot. At least, one that could be linked back to the Sith. They were sneaky like that.

Even still, there was something in the Force... a kind of acknowledgment that change was in the air. Was within arms reach a palpably short distance away.

With a sigh, Anakin used his mechanical hand to run through his hair. Obi-Wan’s eyes, liquid quick, latched onto the sight. That was when Anakin remembered that he had not seen the finished product of all his labor. 

“You finished it!” Obi-Wan straightened up and reached forward, silently asking for his hand. “May I?”

Anakin flushed with pride and handed over his arm. 

It was his best work to date. The sleek outer shell was made of a metal he himself had mined from below the Temple and sung into shape, a kind of blue-black mineral, similar to steel but four times as durable and a fraction of the weight. No one had ever before seen it, for so very few people were as attuned with the Force’s direction as he was; thus he was allowed to name it. Since he was going to use it for the exoskeleton and the outside of the prosthetic, he decided to call it snapsteel. He welded it all together with a gold-hybrid he had come up with, that kept it flexible but sturdy. 

Best of all?

“I can feel that,” Anakin told Obi-Wan as the elder traced his fingers over the long, narrow digits.

He had created a microscopic neural grid that covered every inch of his fingers, his palm, and forearm. It was weaved together with the welding lines, like wallpaper on a wall.

“Really?”

“Completely,”

Obi-Wan’s face lit up like it had before. “It’s a work of art. Truly,” 

Anakin didn’t know why his words seemed to warm him up when Master Windu’s words had only made him smile in pride at a job well done. He wasn’t sure why this man he’d met, by accident in a caff shop, and that he had only met once seemed to wiggle right under his shields. He didn’t know why Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sith Apprentice, mattered to him.

But he knew it was aggravating.

Aggravating and... pleasant.

* * *

Qui-Gon had responded to his email with actual, real, snail-mail. Four days after his email, he received a small parcel by a Sith Accolade. A slight man with a little scar across his nose that met him on the corner of his apartment and the supermarket adjacent was nothing to look at and even Force-Null. They didn’t stop for long, a simple slide of hand to transfer the package into Obi-Wan’s pocket as he walked up the stairs to his apartment.

And when he had entered, he had immediately set upon opening it.

_ [My dear nephew,] _ Qui-Gon wrote, in code. [ _ Your wish is my demand, of course. We’ll go see the speeder when I return, _

_ Your uncle _ _   
_ _ Gon] _

Inside the package was a small amulet on a leather cord. 

Obi-Wan’s breath caught as he realized what it was. 

_ How had - _ Qui-Gon had taken his message in the very literal way that Obi-Wan had not written it. He seemed to have guessed, correctly, that is, that the mission had changed from befriending and bedding a useful friend, to seducing a Jedi.

His lips quirked. His Master knew him well and in Sithly fashion, had sent him one of the most potent artifacts their Temple had for corrupting a Jedi: The Heart of Revan. 

It corrupted by companionship. By a deepening relationship. If he wore this around Anakin, the Jedi would find himself, slowly of course, over time, trusting Obi-Wan, questioning his Jedi Master’s Order, seeking Obi-Wan out, as well as feeling deeply unsettled by further time away. It corrupted in the most insidious way:

Slowly and intimately. 

The last Jedi this had been used on was Darth Tyrannus, the second hand to the newest Master Sith, who had once been known as a near Jedi Elder, as close to being given that promotion as any Jedi.

Two months, was all it took for a Jedi Master to Fall. Two months of once-weekly meetings, of subtle encouragement, of success. 

Fingering the amulet that pulsed in greeting, a dark clenching around his heart to acknowledge the Order he had sold his life to, Obi-Wan knew that Anakin was as good as his. The evilest part of himself purred with glee. The Jedi wouldn’t know what hit him.

Which is why, in the caff shop, he wasn’t surprised at all to watch Anakin beam at his compliment. Gave over his arm without any further prompting. Even the bloodlust that had come about from their discussion about the treaty. The amulet was working. Fast. 

Anakin Skywalker showed a moment of recognition that he was acting uncharacteristically. Which was quickly swept away as he seemed to become aware of Obi-Wan. Of everything, the Force seemed to be speaking to him, both light and dark. It embraced Anakin like a lost child, soaking him in its presence.

And so, Obi-Wan wasn’t surprised when Anakin blushed.

It seemed the Amulet had chosen the path of Anakin’s corruption. 

Obi-Wan couldn't say he wasn’t looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you. Much darker tone that I was going for originally...  
> :D


	4. Propriety Before the Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Anakin argue about their separate code. Anakin talks to Yoda. Qui-Gon returns.  
> Anakin Skywalker's world gets darker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really dislike posting at night, but it always seems like the only time I have free.  
> Anyway, have another chapter of this dumpster fire. :)

After that, they arranged a meeting for every other day. That, at least, lasted half a week.

Half a week of teasing insults, and bickering, and soft smiles hidden behind fists - Obi-Wan had to admit: Anakin wasn’t what he thought. He was more. So much more. He was a bright, shining light in the darkness, and occasionally it hurt to look at him. Once he was muddied up, once he was on Obi-Wan’s side, the Sith didn’t think it would be a problem - but for now, it was just another reminder that he was a Jedi.

That much power would be so much more of use to the dark, after all.

Still, it was only half a week. And Obi-Wan was gaining ground every single moment in Anakin’s presence. Every single argument he won, he gained ground. Every time Anakin looked to him, listened with that intense listening face of his, cocked his head and asked a question, or even leaned forward even that much more close. Every single second together was ground gained.

Their conversations, too, varied wildly.

It wasn’t just Anakin speaking about the Jedi, either. Obi-Wan contributed just as much as he did. Nothing was off limits, which was... refreshing. So very few people were willing to talk, let alone argue, about the real issues. One issue, such as the inherent differences between the Sith and the Jedi, was the topic for today.

“ _ There is no emotion, there is peace _ ,” Obi-Wan scoffed. “I mean, come now. There are emotions, or else we would not feel them,”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Well, of course, but you don’t allow your emotions to control you, do you?”

“No,” Obi-Wan agreed. “But that’s because I, personally, have self-control,”

“Well it’s not like your code is much better. I mean come on, ‘Peace is a lie, there is only passion’?” Anakin shook his head. “Peace is real. I have felt it before,”

Obi-Wan waved a hand dismissively. “No, it is a lie. You only  _ think  _ you’re feeling peace because you’ve let go of all your emotions that would contradict with what you’ve been  **brainwashed** to believe,”

The Jedi across from him straightened. Offended. “That’s  **_not_ ** how that works.”

“Isn’t it?” Obi-Wan sneered. “Come now, tell me truthfully, how do you  _ usually  _ meditate? Clear your mind? Allow the Force to clean you right out and allow it to take up residency?”

Anakin was silent, listening, allow him to argue his point.

“Tell me, truthfully, honestly, Anakin, if you clean something out, does not something else come to take up residence?”

“That’s different - “

Obi-Wan cut him off.

“It really, really isn’t. If you have nothing in a room, does it not make it easier to move into? If you have a cluttered room, does it not make it harder?”

Anakin faltered, then. Hesitating. Obi-Wan won by that alone, but the Jedi quickly dismissed his valid points and shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve been raised to use your emotions where I have been raised to live without them,”

_ Liar, _ Obi-Wan wants to say.  _ Lies. You were obviously raised outside the Temple, or else I’ll eat my left shoe. _

“Exactly my point,” Obi-Wan smirked. The seeds were planted, the amulet would do its work, even at a distance.

“Enough, let’s move on,” Anakin was quick to dismiss. “And what about the rest of your code, though? It goes on to extrapolate that by passion you eventually gain victory - to throw off your chains. Well, whose chains, huh? You’re clearly not a slave!”

Obi-Wan raised a brow. “Many of my friends were once slaves.”

Whatever argument Anakin was thinking to use dried up in his mouth.

“Oh,”

“Yes,  _ oh _ ,” Obi-Wan agreed. “It is the way of the world, of course. The strong use and abuse the weak. Until the weak grow strong and throw off their Masters chains,” He grinned again, well aware he had won again. “They are some of my most powerful adversaries when I spar with those my age,”

“Were you one?”

Obi-Wan had gone to take a sip of his tea but stopped with it halfway. “Was I a slave, you mean?”

Anakin nodded. Face tight and  **not** carefully controlled. There was something there. The Force and the amulet pulsed with something foreign that Obi-Wan was starting to understand was Anakin’s own particular version of... unease. The line of questioning was one that all Sith understood as the tier of power, but a Jedi... they clearly would not. It clicked then, for Obi-Wan.

“I was not... were you?”

Anakin’s mech-arm nearly shattered his cup in his hand. 

_ Ah. _ Obi-Wan thought, watching as Anakin closed his eyes, pulled the anger back inside him, and then let it all go. Like so much smoke into the air. It was a damn shame. He had... he had much anger, much fear. He felt  _ so much. _

How the hell was he still a Jedi?

“I was not a slave, no,”

“But someone you knew was.” Obi-Wan guessed, knowing he was right. “Does the Jedi code make that easier?”

“Make what easier?”

“Losing someone. Losing someone, especially when you know you have the power to save them,”

This time, Anakin had the foresight to drop his ceramic cup to the table before clenching his fist, quick to hid it under the table. Obi-Wan knew his code after all. Knew about there being no death, only the Force. Knowing that peace, led to serenity. Being a stone lead to being a rock.

“The fate of the one is not of greater value than the fate of the many,” Anakin said, in that voice that people used when they were parroting what had been taught to them. With no thought to it other than it was right because one greater than them thought it was.

“Except when it is, of course,” Obi-Wan made sure to keep his voice steady. Even. A certain rhythm he knew was attractive, that drew you in. He had taken lessons from Qui-Gon. “Except when you have the Force, and another does not - but they are hurting you. Does it not make sense to make the pain stop? To stop it all? All it would take is a simple... Flick of the wrist, a simple choice to not live in your chains... Would you begrudge them that?”

Anakin had long since gone still, staring at him as he talked. Mesmerized. The amulet against his chest warmed, pulsed, and then fell silent. And still, Anakin stared. He gulped. Opened his mouth, and then shut it, before he shuts his eyes tight.

“I don’t know,”

Obi-Wan smiled at the pain in his voice.

“Not so black and white, huh?”

The Jedi hesitated, before turning away, his profile stone. “No. I suppose not,”

The Force was suffused with woe. A great, big unbearable sadness. Obi-Wan didn’t even think before he reached over and put his hand on Anakin’s upper arm, offering comfort and stability. Anakin turned back to him then, giving him a part grateful smile, part watery sigh. 

_ He was beautiful _ , Obi-Wan thought, as he did often enough. He was like the literal embodiment of the Force - strong, waxing and waning, every changing. His moods twisted like the Force, too. And if Obi-Wan didn’t have this amulet on, able to artificially poke and prod those moods into something a little more constructive... well, he wasn’t sure what the outcome of this whole thing would be.

Then Anakin’s comm. went off and the moment was shattered.

“Kark,” Anakin sighed, reaching over and ordering it to show him the message. 

Obi-Wan only caught a glimpse of who it was from. Master Windu. It said. Obi-Wan froze, blinking. Wasn’t he on the Council?

“I’ve got to go,” Anakin told him, getting up and grabbing his cup. “Tomorrow?”

And there’s that need to continue to see him, Obi-Wan thought with a smile as he rose and bid him farewell. They clasped arms, in standard goodbye, and Anakin walked away.

If the Sith happened to watch his Jedi’s ass, well nobody could say but him.

* * *

“Apprentice Skywalker.”

Anakin had long since taught himself not to flinch, much to the delight of the Jedi Masters when he had first arrived at the Temple (they never asked why), and that aided him as Master Yoda’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“Master,” Anakin said, nervously turning around to bow to him. “Good afternoon, is there something I can help you with?”

Master Yoda was a miniscule ancient man, yet he made up for his small stature with his Force presence. Overbearing, overloaded, and often times rudely prodding at Anakin, as if to sense his own weakness and his daily failures. As far as Anakin could tell, this treatment was reserved solely for him.

Not that it was a surprise. What with who he was...

“Walk with me, Apprentice," Yoda ordered brusquely as he waltzed past the younger man. Not even turning to look at him.

Used to this, Anakin caught up to him, and then tempered his usually longer strides to the man beside him. They walked for a while, until they reached the large garden housed in the Temples center. Master Yoda lead him to a well-shaded meditation mat.

For a long while, it was silent. Yoda meditating and Anakin trying to follow suite. Unsuccessfully.

“You Master has confided in me,” Yoda finally said, humming and clearing his throat. The man had a certain accent from his previous Temple, and Anakin always found it hard to listen to every single word. “Worried, he is. Distant... you have been. Is this true?”

Once again, the Master’s were talking behind his back. How... exhausting. Anakin thought, clenching his hand, his only outward tell.

“I am adjusting to my new prosthetic,” Anakin lied, already well used to it, loving it in fact. He had forgotten what it felt like to touch with both hands. He had forgotten the ability to dual wield. Sure, he couldn’t feel hot or cold. And he wasn’t able to distinguish between soft and hard, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that he had accomplished what his people, his labmates, had been trying to accomplish for decades. “I am also... feeling a little out of sorts,”

“Anything in particular, about?”

Anakin knew exactly what. He had always been lonely. It was part of being one of the only Jedi not to have grown up in the Temple from the creche onwards - but these past few weeks it had gotten worse. He would have blamed the Sith Apprentice he had befriended, if he wasn’t the only person who actually  _ liked  _ to talk to him.  _ Liked  _ to hang out with him. 

And not just because of who he was.

The Sith had yet to mention the one thing about Anakin Skywalker that he had not told him previously.

“I am just out of sorts. I am working it out,”

Yoda glanced at him then. Trying to see right into his mind. 

“We are here to help. It would do you well to remember this,”

Anakin had never felt himself pull the Force towards himself in response to such an innocent, inoculant comment. Never before had he quickly cloaked himself, hiding his emotions, and brushing the shock and worry of his face. Still, the way he had done it, it was almost instinct.

“I will remember, Master,” Anakin says, but he realizes his voice is colder.

Yoda does not.

“Please do,”

And then he’s up, walking away. Clearly having other things to do.

He leaves Anakin realizing something has changed. And since the only thing that had changed with Anakin was his meetings with Obi-Wan - he had to assume he was growing. Precisely in the way his Master wanted, except something told him Mace would not approve.

He stays outside until he couldn’t stand the cheery sunshine for a moment more.

* * *

“A Jedi, huh?” Qui-Gon speaks from the shadows as Obi-Wan enters through the front door, within the proper hours and is hanging up his jacket.

“Hello Master,” Obi-Wan greets him right back. “When did you get back?”

“A few hours ago,” He answers, dismissively, waving a hand. “Now, Jedi? What’s this about needing an artifact for taming one?”

Obi-Wan smiled at his Master, then he pulled the leather strap from under his shirt, over his collar. “I found a Jedi I am particularly taken with. I thought I would try my hand at making a new lineage tradition, simple as that,”

“Ha!” qui-Gon laughed, and Obi-Wan was able to get a good look at him.

He looked healthy enough. Long hair half-up-half-down, just as Tahl liked it, with a look today that screamed hot-datable-professor (a Tahl-ism). Obi-Wan shook his head at his Master’s antics. The only person he was teaching anything to, was him, and he jealously guarded that privilege.

“So who is this Jedi? Do I know them?”

Obi-Wan snorted, flopping onto the couch across from him. “Doubtful. He’s an apprentice with a lot of anger and ‘emotions’. I honestly don’t know how the Jedi haven’t beaten that out of him yet,”

“Young, always a good sign,” Qui-Gon praised. “Does this Jedi have a name?”

“I’ll tell you when it’s looking more promising,” Obi-Wan deflected, leaning back and stretching.

“Not keeping secrets, are we, Apprentice?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I’ve told you my plans. I just would like to do it... by myself. Don’t you trust me, Master?”

Qui-Gon smiled like a fox, a trick and a trap in his smirk. “Obi-Wan, my dear, trust has never been an issue between us... but I digress. I’ll allow you your secret, but if you haven’t subdued him by the months end I  **will** need a name,”

The Sith Apprentice realized he could live with that. That gave him two weeks to work his magic. He wasn’t expecting it to take that long, since he was already two weeks in. Especially with the Heart of Revan and the progress he had been making already.

“Deal,”

“Good,” Qui-Gon used the Force to bring his phone close. “Now, what do you want for dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know Anakin is very different and a whole lot less confrontational than his movie/tv-show counterpart, but in Anakin Skywalker's world things are pretty simple - They were at peace, there was a treaty between their people, and Obi-Wan was really fucking hot, alright?  
> Like, super hot. It's his first crush and he wants to make a good impression, even though he ALSO wants to be right about everything - he's younger tho, so he knows he's got a lot to learn (cough*thanks mace*cough) and instead of having the calming and supportive presence of a Jedi!Obi-Wan all he's had are stuffy Master's who quash his potential because they are scared of his potential. Or tell him to go meditate away his outburst of emotions, which are getting more and more infrequent because he's gotten better at HIDING THEM. Silly Council, emotions aren't just for Siths.  
> Obi-Wan will always, forever, do his best on whatever side he is on. He's committed, he's ready, and most importantly, he's willing to do whatever it takes to Win. As a Sith, he's always been a TERRIFYING concept.  
> :D  
> Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!


	5. Morality, Virtue, and Dignity (or the Lack of All Three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Anakin reveal to each other the circumstances of their joining their respective Temples.   
> Anakin contemplates. Obi-Wan gets lucky.
> 
> [Also, basically, the chapter everyone has been waiting for]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all better know we gotta give a nod to imagineryanon's 'wicked things', and that's where some of the more obvious themes become apart. You guys might even notice some lines that are similar (I just thought they were so freakin' funny and perfect I had to weave them into my own story).   
> I also think this is like... a hella long chapter? I think maybe the longest one? Man, I have no clue...........  
> I'll probably finish updating this story over the weekend - there are only three chapter's left, after all - then the epilogue.

The third week, Anakin was leaving the Temple for at least two hours a day. Nobody questioned why. They had no reason to. The worst thing they could think him doing is sneaking out to have lesions with a person, and that wasn’t strictly forbidden to them. It made Anakin feel... angry and a little neglected, but every time he saw Obi-Wan that all washed away. When Obi-Wan would smirk in greeting, no matter who arrived first, something in Anakin’s chest unclenched.

They were back to talking about their childhood. When their respective Master’s found them and trained them. Obi-Wan still didn’t know what age Anakin was taken into the Jedi Temple, but if he had to guess probably 6. Any older and there had to be a mistake...

“My mother was... Well, her pimp didn’t want to lose...” Anakin trailed off. His flesh hand running through his curls. The faintest hint of guilt, nervousness, and pain in the Force.

Obi-Wan understood that. Force-sensitive children were a rare, invaluable commodity. The Jedi took protecting their Force-sensitive population that did not earn their title of Jedi... decidedly badly, Obi-Wan thought. Slavery was not as common as it used to be for those who could touch or wield the Force, now that the supply line had been disrupted by mandatory testing and - in Jedi space - it had at least trickled from a downpour to a light rain. Not to say it wasn't a good place to live, though.

“I get it,” Obi-Wan said, reaching forward and drawing Anakin’s hand from his blond hair. 

Anakin blinked, a flush rising from his collar to his cheeks.

“I myself wasn’t found until I was nearly eight,” he allowed a smile to curl along the edges of his lips. “My Master was very... impressed with the anger he found within me.”

“Is that what the Sith look for in their Apprentices?” Anakin asked, curious, and his tone... well it wasn’t a bad tone. It wasn’t even unkind. It was genuine and true. He just wanted to know. “Anger?”

_ How much did the Jedi teach about their Sith counterparts? _ Obi-Wan wondered while he answered.

“Anger, fear, jealousy - they are the beginnings of power within the dark, darling,”

The Jedi frowned. “How do you draw strength from such negative emotions? We’re taught to let them go, to be calm, tranquil pools of the Force... It seems so  _ backward  _ to use your emotions for power,”

Obi-Wan had to keep his cool, remind himself that this kid had been raised by fools, good natured and well meaning, but fools all the same. The worst kind, in Obi-Wan’s opinion.

“We don’t just use the bad emotions,” Obi-Wan scoffed a little. “We use passion, we use glee, we use anger, and we use every other little emotion. We don’t shy away from them.” He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be worth it.

“I just don’t get it,” Anakin said, again.

“Would you like me to show you?” Obi-Wan asked, no longer smiling, wanting to impress on Anakin just how serious he was. Because slavery of Force-Children in Jedi spaces might be limited, but in Sith space, it  **thrived** .

Some of Obi-Wan’s best friends hadn’t been found until they were eight or nine, with a lot of emotional scars and hidden anger, justified anger, just waiting to be used for the dark side. They were powerful apprentices, just like he was. 

Obi-Wan himself had been a somewhat erroneous youngling that had gotten into a lot of trouble, socially and physically. Sure, he had a family, a brother and a mother and a father - but his family was Force-Null. And whatever a Force-Sensitive is supposed to be... alone was not it. So in the dark of the night, when he reached for connection, so often he had found only a stark, empty loneliness. So he started fights. He bullied. He picked on those weaker then himself, even if it meant they were older than himself. When he was physically beaten, that little part inside of him finally shut up. When there was pain, there was peace. And fights he started... well, he made sure to finish them. Opponents leaving bruises for weeks, sure, even with Force-healing, not that Obi-Wan had known at the time that it was force aided healing. 

It was what had drawn Master Qui-Gon’s gaze to him the first time he had been brought to the Temple after testing. The bruises, yellowing and browning and purpling. It was what had kept his attention as he started a fight with an older boy, with deep yellow eyes, already an Apprentice; taunting the kid and then using his overwhelming emotions against him. 

Obi-Wan had been claimed for an Apprenticeship that very hour.

Anakin had yet to answer, staring at him as if trying to figure him out.

“Well?” Obi-Wan asked. “It won’t hurt, I promise. Nor will it corrupt you, if that’s what you're worried about.”

That last part was a lie, but the Jedi didn’t need to know that. Just like he didn’t need to know about the amulet strung up around Obi-Wan’s neck. Anakin still hesitated, but he was curious. He craved knowledge. He was  _ always  _ craving understanding. It was to be his downfall, if he could be drawn down into the dark at all, this would be the way. 

Through gifts of knowledge. Through gifts of trust. Through gifts of affection.

“How are you going to show me?” Anakin asked.

_ Success!  _ Obi-Wan crowed to himself, keeping his face carefully blank, except for a warm smile. Anakin was too curious for his own good.  _ What was that saying? Curiosity killed the cat? _

Obi-Wan didn’t want Anakin dead, but closer to the dark would be nice. Right snug up within Obi-Wan's dark little world would be ideal.

So, he held out his hand. “Just place your hand in mine. I’ll do the rest,”

Again, Anakin hesitated. This went beyond just talking. Beyond sharing secrets. This was sharing the Force, in the exact opposite way Anakin had been taught to use it.

Obi-Wan was patient, though, and kept his hand level.

Anakin... stared.

* * *

When their meetings had begun, just a short three weeks prior, Anakin had promised himself that he wouldn't fall for any Sith tricks. But... this wasn’t a trick, was it? No. This... This was an offering. Payment for all they had talked about.

This was a reward for coming back day after day. It had first been a week between their visits. Then every other day. But now, Anakin was growing increasingly anxious the farther he was from his Sith friend, and they met for at least a cup of caff and tea in the afternoon. It wasn’t... natural - was it? To be this taken by a Sith?

Anakin didn’t know, nor did he want to ask the Masters. They would make him stop. They would judge him and find him wanting. They would see only the dark in their interactions - which, perhaps true, but needed all the same. Worst of all, they would forbid him his contact with Obi-Wan. For his own good, they would say, and Anakin would have to believe that - because the masters were to be trusted.

_ Weren’t they? _

Perhaps, if Anakin had friends in the Temple, it would be one thing.

Perhaps if people other than his Master praised him, greeted him cordially in the hallway, it wouldn’t have come to this. Someone would have seen something, someone would have raised the alarm.

Perhaps if someone else had just cared, a smidgeon...

Perhaps Anakin would not be here.

But ‘maybe’s and ‘perhap's wouldn’t help him here, now. Not when he reached out for Obi-Wan’s hand and took a firm grasp of each finger within his own hand. Not when he breathed in, sucked in a breath at the feeling of a slightly cooler hand in his own, running colder than him, but a secure grip.

Anakin met Obi-Wan’s gaze.

“Show me,”

Obi-Wan grinned that Cheshire grin. His eyes flared around the edges, golden. Anakin wanted to pull back, but by then, it was too late - Obi-Wan was beginning to push something at him. It hovered in the Force between them. A lump, a river, something that was both incandescent and solid. 

“Like you’re meditating, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured in the bustling caff shop, his voice a near whisper, almost trampled in the noise. “Just.  _ Breath _ ,”

Anakin did so and promptly choked as he breathed-in the emotion Obi-Wan was transmitting to him. It was just like mediating, where he pushed out his own feelings and allowed those artificial emotions to fill him up. Except this wasn’t calm. This wasn’t peace. It wasn’t tranquility, and it certainly wasn’t empty.

This was raging  **_glee_ ** . 

Happiness as Anakin had never felt before. It filled him up. Made him light, made him excited, made him want to hug and drag the source of this happiness as close as he could. It was like staring into the sun of his own future, a better future, a future where he was what he wanted to be - Useful, alive, and himself. It was all he had ever wanted.

Obi-Wan pulled back bit by bit until Anakin was left with the aftermath. Neither letting their hands fall.

As he came back to himself, he realized he was crying.

“You... You feel that?” Anakin questioned, having to clear his throat. “All the time?”

“Not all the time,” Obi-Wan said, petting his thumb down Anakin’s own fisted fingers. It sent a shiver up his spine, his skin super sensitive from the sharing. “Sometimes it’s anger. Other times its terror. Loathing. Anything that’s strong, powerful, that’s what I use,”

They sat there, hand in hand, not moving for a few moments more.

Then Anakin’s comm. went off.

Obi-Wan was gladdened when Anakin groaned, clearly not wanting to go, not wanting to leave him. It was unbecoming of him to gloat, but oh did he want to.

“Your Master?” He asked.

Anakin nodded, reading the message. “I have to go... Tomorrow?”

Obi-Wan nodded. 

“Of course,”

Anakin didn’t notice the way the Force mourned their parting, the strain on their new bond within the Force stretching, never breaking, but becoming inert by the distance. Nor would he. Not for a long time.

* * *

Anakin stayed up that night, on the rooftop where no one would bother him, watching the stars and wishing - not for the first time - that he could just run away.

This time, another featured in his thoughts.

Obi-Wan coming with him. 

Somehow, that makes him make up his mind. He's going to tell Obi-Wan.

* * *

“I was tested late,” Anakin admitted the next day, as they sat and chatted over caff, picking up their conversation from yesterday. “My mother lived a very... inappropriate lifestyle and didn’t see it necessary to get me checked. Even when I managed to nearly burn the house down around us,”

“How late?” Obi-Wan asked, curious despite himself. He felt this was just another puzzle piece that made Anakin such a unique Jedi.

“I was eight,”

Obi-Wan damn near dropped his cup.

His jaw did in fact drop.

“The Jedi actually took you in to train?” Obi-Wan demanded, shocked. The Jedi had that stupid mandate for early testing because they had to brainwash young since they knew it would never hold up into adulthood otherwise. Things about Anakin made  _ sense  _ now. “Kark, I’ve never heard anything like that... Why?”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” He snarked, but there was genuine... hurt there. Obi-Wan was already filing it away for later. “They took me in because I was smart, strong in the Force, and starting to become... a nuisance,”

Obi-Wan winced in sympathy. Anakin was staring far away, trapped, most likely, in his own memories. Good or bad, his hands shook until he put down his cup and smoothed over one of his journals nervously. Leaning forward Obi-Wan covered Anakin’s right hand with his own, making the Jedi jump. Quicksilver blue eyes dropped to his own.

“I’m glad they did,” Obi-Wan stated, with a genuine smile. “I’d hate to see the world with a Feral Anakin Skywalker running around,”

The Jedi in front of him relaxed. “Probably winning all the drag racing money this side of Texas,”

His brows quirked against his will.

“Drag Racing? Really Anakin?”

A sharky smile was his reward. “I’ll take you some time!”

“... Wait. You’re a Jedi... and you drag race?”

Anakin shrugged noncommittally. “What the Council doesn’t know won’t hurt them,”

Fuck, making Anakin Skywalker Fall was more of a leading role rather than a dragging role apparently. The Jedi already had one foot on the dark side, firmly planted, too. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but stare at him in admiration. Damnit all, every time the Jedi opened his mouth, Obi-Wan thought he couldn't want him more. 

Then, without much thought, he spoke.

“You have any pictures?” He asked.

Anakin snorted. “You think I just keep pictures of myself in my wallet? What about the Jedi way of life condones that?”

“Well, fine,” Obi-Wan said. “At least tell me what you go by?”

There was a bright flush over Anakin’s cheeks at the question. He mumbled. 

Oh, this was going to be good, Obi-Wan though. “Pardon?”

“I said -” Anakin breathed deep -“The Tatooine Devil,”

Obi-Wan blinked. Then he blinked again. Blood rushed south as an image, perhaps Force provided, perhaps not, appeared to him suddenly. 

Anakin, dressed in tight jeans, a leather jacket zipped tight, as he strode towards his vehicle of choice for the race. He exuded confidence, power, and sex appeal. There was a feral smile on his face, glee permeating the Force around him. He was awash in triumph, and he hadn’t even raced yet.

Obi-Wan very much wanted to pin him down and see just how far those traits extended.

Being a Sith, he thought nothing of going for it.

“You know what?” Obi-Wan asked, leaning further over the stacks of datapads. Anakin cocked his head, like a cute, curious puppy. Obi-Wan beckoned him closer with a finger. Anakin, sweet innocent Jedi Anakin, obliged. 

“That’s  _ really, really, really fucking,”  _ he leaned forward, cheek brushing cheek, one hand curling into his Jedi’s collar and whispered into his ear, _ “ _ **_hot_ ** , ”

It was a physical feeling, the Force then, a heavy weight over the both of them since their cheeks were still touching. Anakin had gone utterly still at the spoken words, but Obi-Wan was pleased to note that internally he was about as turned on as Obi-Wan was. That flash of lust, of pure unadulterated want and need came like a wave. Obi-Wan opened himself to it and allowed himself to give just as much as he got. For one long second, it all merged in the Force. A tangible thing. 

“We - uh, we - we shouldn’t,” Anakin whimpered. 

For a second, Obi-Wan was amused, because he felt like a skittish colt - anything could happen. He could buck, or he could submit.

Obi-Wan wanted to take him right then and there.

“And why not?”

“Because the Code - “

“The code commits you to celibacy?” He had no response to that. “Does the code you so dearly commit yourself to, explicitly forbid this?”

No resistance would stand in the way of what Obi-Wan wanted.

They were in a very public place, though, one that he was well known at.  _ Both  _ of them were well known at. As Obi-Wan slide a hand up pant leg, over his thigh, he spoke into his ear again, eliciting a shuddering response. The background noise of the caff shop provided ample cover.

“Me. You. Abed. Tangling together,” Obi-Wan pushed a suggestion at him, an image - limbs tangled, lips on lips, on skin, on bone, as hardness met hardness, and fingers made dents, bruised, and left imprints. The very essence of sex, Obi-Wan imprinted, on groaning, moaning completion - it was up to Anakin to take it. 

And take it he did.

What did it say that the Jedi blushed deep red? What did it say that Anakin gasped at the image shared?

What kind of Jedi did that make him?

“Don’t you want that, Anakin?” Obi-Wan breathed. Through their fledgling bond, he pushed precisely what he wanted to do with Anakin. More than the last image. The Jedi gave a strangled gasp as images merged behind his eyelids (skin pressed against skin, hot, heavy panting, groans of pleasure), across his skin flashes of emotions and snippets of feelings (warmth, cool sweat, tired and strained muscles).

Anakin’s hand spasmed against his chest.

Jackpot.

“I think we should take this somewhere else, don’t you?”

“We really really really shouldn’t,” Anakin whispered in rebellion against his own wants, against his own needs - even as it flared up, snug against Obi-Wan’s own. Such a Jedi.

_ My Jedi, _ Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think. 

Possessive want and need curling around his heart just as his arousal sparked.

“We really really really should,”

And Obi-Wan didn’t think he’d have to play dirty, but he was completely and utterly willing to. So when Anakin still hesitated, he turned his mouth towards that flushed cheek, towards that ear and nipped, catching earlobe; then another nip, catching the skin right below his ear. Teased his teeth along his jaw.

Anakin  _ squeaked _ . Swear to the Force, squeaked.

If he thought the Force was an inferno before, he had no words to describe  **this** . It was like a wildfire. Untamable, and yet Obi-Wan knew he had to tame it for both of them to survive this encounter. To survive for another, equally pleasurable encounter.

“We’re going to go, Anakin.” Obi-Wan licked and teased, Anakin winding up beneath him. “We’re going to go find a hotel. Then, I’m going to show you just how much I appreciate how hot you are. I’m going to show you how everything in those images I just shared with you - really feel,”

“ _ Obi-Wan _ ,”

“Have you ever been fucked before Anakin?”

Anakin shivered. Obi-Wan took that as a no.

“Ever been tied down? Worshiped? Made to feel so many things at once, you don’t even remember your own name? Hmmm?” 

Anakin’s flushed face, his straining muscles as he tried to give nothing away - gave him away.

“Would you like me to do all of that? Stripe you down to the basest of what you are?” 

Speechless. His Jedi was speechless. Obi-Wan wanted to see his face then, but he kept up his work on his neck.

“ _ Obi- _ **_Wan_ ** ,” Anakin finally choked.

“Yes?” Obi-Wan breathed hot breath over spit slick ear. A question all wrapped up with promise.

This was the culmination of so much conversation.

* * *

Anakin can’t think. It’s all mushing his brain, like a banana about to be baked.

The code doesn’t say anything about sleeping with Obi-Wan.

It says nothing about sleeping with a Sith Lord.

It says nothing about anything that is happening here, right now.

So Anakin decides; he’s going to do it. He’s going to be the first Jedi to willingly fuck a Sith.

* * *

Anakin gave one genuinely valiant shudder before pressing forward. “Kark - fuck -  **_yes_ ** ,”

Obi-Wan pulled back to see the glazed look in Anakin’s eyes, before helping him to pack. He made sure to keep a constant hand on the Jedi, not wanting him to forget the fire that had raged, that was now banked back to a few serious embers and flames that Obi-Wan kept poking. A single touch here, a caress through the Force.

Anakin was like clay in his hands.

Then they left the Caff shop.

* * *

They made it to the alley before Obi-Wan decided to keep it interesting. Anakin was new to the whole physical thing, even if they had joked about it and teased and smirked and cackled, but Obi-Wan could tell; Anakin wanted this. The Jedi was a constant blushing mess, with too bright eyes and ruffled hair. Being as attractive as the both of them were, Obi-Wan was baffled how nobody had seen fit to snatch Anakin up. Introduce him to sex like he had been.

It was just Obi-Wan’s luck that Anakin didn’t know near enough about what was to happen.

Or else he might never get him into the hotel room.

Stopping in the alley was the first taste, Obi-Wan decided to give Anakin. 

“Wha -? ” Anakin managed before Obi-Wan moved.

Pushing him to the wall to even the playing field a little, since he was shorter, and then stepping up on his tiptoes to press his lips to the Jedi’s lips. Anakin let out a genuinely startled sound, opening his mouth in surprise, which Obi-Wan took full advantage of. Obi-Wan had one hand on his cheek, guiding, another in his hair - and his lips were on his. Short, sweet sounds came from him then, intense and kittenish as he groaned.

With their skin against skin contact, the Force flared around them. Static clung and sizzled as Obi-Wan cupped Anakin’s cheek and smashed their bodies together against the wall. Their arousal painting the air around them. Anyone who was Force-Sensitive would know they had been here. This spot would be a beacon of sex for the next few days unless Obi-Wan and Anakin came back to relay their claim. Then it would last for far, far longer.

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan hummed as he pulled away with a smirk, seeing Anakin looking absolutely wrecked. Lips swollen, eyes wide and fuzzy, with his hair sparking from their activities and feelings. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

Anakin was speechless. Again.

It seemed to be a running theme of the night. Obi-Wan was looking forward to blowing the Jedi’s mind.

* * *

He was drowning.

Every single good feeling he had ever had. Elation, triumph, joy, glee, and any number of other adjectives to describe it. Sunlight and moonlight, a feeling of lightness only held down to earth by Obi-Wan’s touch on his wrist, on  _ him _ .

Everything with Obi-Wan seemed to go fast, blurred the edges of his vision until he was hyper-focused on the man. It was... not an unpleasant feeling. A little gut-wrenching, but not bad. Like when he was racing, and he needed to have a single focus, a single goal in mind. In fact, it was the most focused he had ever been on one thing, one person, ever.

It was dizzying. Pleasurable. 

Obi-Wan was staring at him. It was hard for Anakin to remember, but he’d asked a question. No. Not a question, a prompting. A reminder of continuing their pleasurable activities. In a more secluded place. A hotel room.

He knew they should move, get going to their destination, but he couldn’t help but want to be closer before they inevitably parted again. So he ducked his head and initiated a kiss with the older man. Groaning into it, Anakin realized it was even better than the last kiss they shared.

Gripping Anakin’s hair, the steady hands of his, carding through his hair; Obi-Wan drew him closer. As if they could get any closer. 

“ _ Anakin _ ,”

It was all heat, and warmth, and wet tongues.

“ _ Obi-Wan, _ ”

Then Obi-Wan was pulling back. Anakin followed him with a whimper. Wanting, wanting, wanting -

“We really should get going, darling,” Obi-Wan repeated.

“Why not stay here and make out some more?” 

Anakin’s eyes may be closed, trying to gain some semblance of control, but he knows Obi-Wan is smirking.  _ Kark _ . How does he know him so well? They’ve only known each other three weeks... at the most!

“Perhaps because it’s a dirty back alley,” Obi-Wan said. “And I would rather do what I want to do to you, on a  **real** mattress,”

Anakin opened his eyes then, stared into those eyes meeting his. Suddenly, it’s imperative that he and Obi-Wan get closer. Get together. Merge. Become one. And if the only obstacle is him, this alley, and the lack of a mattress - then Anakin can fix that.

“Let’s go,” Anakin stated breathlessly, shimmying out from under Obi-Wan just enough to tug him by his hand in the direction they had originally been going. Before they had gotten distracted. “Les-go-les-go-les-go,”

Away from Obi-Wan’s skin, the closeness gives Anakin a moment to clear his head. It’s both agony and refreshing. To be even a foot farther than pressed up close is his worst nightmare. To be closer would be heaven, but that would stop their already stumbling, halting steps.

The path they trek to the dinky motel are laden with kisses in back-alleys, but they get there.

The journey is long, but finally, they are there.

Anakin doesn’t even question why Obi-Wan has a keycard without leaving him. He doesn’t ask why Obi-Wan has taken a place in his life like only his Master had. He doesn’t question -

And then he’s falling on the bed, and Obi-Wan is standing over him.

It’s the sum of all he is comes to this moment. His childhood. His damn near slavery. His entrance into the Jedi Order. Time after time, disappointing his Jedi Masters. Never being good enough. Never being empty enough. Their chance meeting. Their sudden, terrifying understanding. Everything since, everything after. Until, abruptly, he’s so good at not being empty, Obi-Wan’s there helping to fill him up to the very top of the Anakin-size-glass with things he hadn’t been free to feel since he was eight years old, and his mother still tucked him in every night, and kissed his cheek, and tried her very hardest. 

The world’s mad. It’s all gone topsy-turvy. Good is bad. Bad is good. He’s full of emotions, and the Jedi would hate him for it.

And still, he doesn’t care about any single one Jedi, Master, Apprentice or Elder.

But he cares about Obi-Wan.

“ _ Master _ ,” Anakin says, in the appropriately reverent tones.

Obi-Wan’s eyes grew larger, his smirk a little unhinged but no less satisfactory. He closed his eyes, basking in the glory of that word from Anakin’s mouth. A groan left his throat. Then next he opened his eyes, they glowed yellow - horrifyingly corrupt - and yet Anakin wouldn’t have it any other way.

At least one of them is living completely honest.

Anakin remembers what his Master had always told him about the Sith:

They are evil. They are only out for themselves. They’ll stab you in the back as soon as it’s turned. They care for nothing. They care only about themselves. They aren’t worth loyalty or honor, or even conversation - except Obi-Wan’s all of those things and more, Anakin knows. Because he’s not stupid - just so fucking drunk on these feelings, he’s pushing all those opinions and views to the side.

“Fuck,” The elder Sith says in response, and descends on Anakin as if he was water, and Obi-Wan was a dying man, thirsty and unafraid to take, and take, and take - 

Anakin moaned into his mouth as Obi-Wan’s hand undoes his buttons, his palm rubbing him through his underwear. Then, Anakin’s brain whites out as those clever, talented fingers dipped under and grabbed  **him** . He’s mush, both too tense and impossibly relaxed. There are no higher brain functions happening in his skull. 

It’s him. It’s Obi-Wan. 

“Nghhh,” It’s pleasure. 

Everything with Obi-Wan is pleasure. Even the bad.

“There’s a good boy,”

Anakin responds so well to that, to the endearing name, that he is surprised at himself. He’s close. That precipice of bursting, but not quite there, when Obi-Wan pulls back and starts to disrobe. 

“Not yet, darling,”

It’s so fast, so abrupt that Anakin is struck dumb. Anakin would whimper from the lack of contact, but he’s mesmerized by the pale skin being revealed. Of the necklace that nearly comes off with his shirt. It’s an amber color on a leather cord, and it calls to him - imbued with the Force, except not - a trick of the light perhaps.

“Need help, love?” Obi-Wan teased, sliding the shirt down his arms. Distracting.

The amulet is forgotten in favor of pale skin within reach.

His questions about Sith tattoos are answered right then and there as Obi-Wan’s chest is revealed to be a mish-mash of interconnecting black, pitch black markings. Some of the shapes and lines and impressions are symmetrical. Yet, he has a half-sleeve going down his arm, to his elbow, that’s a work of art, though half-finished. It reminds Anakin of Master Plo Koon, from the Asiatic Temple who had visited last year, with his tattoos that seemed to tell a story - in the shape of a mask on his face, under his eyes, and growing. A testament to his duty to the Force.

Except Anakin doesn’t know what Obi-Wan’s tattoos mean, but probably not an ode to the light side of the Force.

“Like what you see?” Obi-Wan asks, predatory in every line of his body.

“Very, very much,” Anakin responds, dry mouthed.

It kicks Anakin into gear and using his shaking hands, he disrobes. His pants are already undone, and he hesitated with a nervousness he’s not usually known for - for a moment - before he yanks those off too. It's an awkward fumbling mess, but soon their both without clothes and Obi-Wan is right back where Anakin wants him. In between his legs, pressed close, their erections against hips.

“Ready?”

Anakin gives his assent readily by grabbing Obi-Wan and bodily pulling him closer. The elder chuckled deep in his throat but obliged.

It’s a slow torture that Anakin never wants to stop as Obi-Wan doesn’t kiss his lips, but goes straight for his neck. Hot breath, teeth nipping and sucking, not long enough to leave a mark but enough to be felt. Then hands roaming, on his hips, his chest, his neck, his face - they are everywhere, and for a moment Anakin wonders how there can be more than two spots of pleasure, as he seems to be turned into a writhing mass of nerves. Obi-Wan doesn’t let up, not even when he takes him in hand.

“That’s it, Ani,” The pet-name drips down Anakin’s spine, and he clenches both hands into the bedsheets. “What a perfect bedmate you are, aren’t you?  _ Darling _ ,”

The praise and the name and everything catch inside Anakin’s head, weighing him down like the physical weight of Obi-Wan’s hands.

“Ahh ahh ahh ah -” He pants. “Obi-Wan!”

The first orgasm he has, it’s just him. Obi-Wan’s hands on him, tugging it right out of his core, through his throat, and upwards, shouted into the air. He reciprocates, messily but no less enthusiastically, and then the second of the night is all Obi-Wan. His words are almost as relevant as Anakin’s own.

“Oohhhh, Anakin, what a good boy. My good boy, aren’t you? Hmmm? Oh - oh ahhhhhh! Yes, yes, yes!”

After a brief respite, helped by the Force within them, they come together once more.

It’s even messier than the last time. Obi-Wan grabbing them both, bringing them to completion. Their lips everywhere. It’s a battle, except it’s not. It’s more sparring - with a predefined winner: both of them. Except, still, somehow, Anakin feels like Obi-Wan wins it all. Him the prize.

Anakin doesn’t remember everything he murmurs. 

Everything he shouts. 

All he knows is that this close, every word, or sound, or echo pleases Obi-Wan nearly as much as every touch, every look, every second together. A huff, a moan, a groan, would elicit Obi-Wan to twist his hand in just the right way, just the right angle - and it was bliss.

So when they come together, he’s properly distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the glow of the Amulet, or the thoughts in his head that maybe aren’t his own - that slithering in between his ears and settle into his soul.

_ You’re his. He’s yours.  _ The darkest part of himself whispers a purr. _ The dark has always been in you - and it’s always been in him. Much fear, Master Yoda would say, perhaps just as much anger. Embrace it. For the Jedi won’t embrace you. Not after this. Not after everything.  _

_ The Force will set you free. _

Both of them collapsed to the bed, Obi-Wan a heavy but solid and reassuring weight on top of him. Exhausted, Anakin can feel that clearly in the Force, not blurry or unsteady. In fact, the whole world was still. He was at peace. Not silent, never silent, but finally at peace.

The first time he had ever felt truly peaceful, and it was after having sex with a Sith Apprentice.

Panting, Anakin relaxed into the mattress below him, Obi-Wan’s considerable weight a comfort, not a burden.

_ Perhaps _ , Anakin thinks as Obi-Wan rolls to the side, adjusting them so their spooning,  _ perhaps he was just born on the wrong continent after all. _

“Mmhmm,” Obi-Wan mumbles into his hair, at the back of his neck. “Darling,” he says, drawling, slurring a little. “Fuck. That was good. So good for me,” There’s a smirk in there somewhere. 

Anakin melts into the bed, whatever remained of his brain leaking out. Except, that’s not wholly true. The Jedi are on his mind, and it’s kind of killing his buzz. Frowning, he tried to forget.

“Penny for your thoughts, love?”Obi-Wan asks as he kisses Anakin’s shoulder.

“I can’t stop thinking of what would the Jedi say about what we just did...”

They would have never let it happen. 

They would have rebuked him.

They would have looked down their noses at him. Disappointed and awfully sure of their way of life.

“Don’t think of them. They aren’t the ones here, now, are they?”

Anakin knows he's right. And how good it felt - it obviously couldn’t be wrong. Anakin finds, in Obi-Wan’s arms, that their opinions mean less than the sand on the beach. Their thoughts, their well hidden, controlled emotions, meant about as much as a single hair on his head.

He answers. “I just... can’t stop thinking,”

Obi-Wan pressed cooling lips to his neck. “Then don’t. Let it all go, Ani,”

He uses their closeness, their skin touching skin, to weigh Anakin down with sleep. It’s a suggestion, nothing more. Yet, Anakin is honestly distressed by what he thinks the Council will do to him, that he allows it to flow over him.

“... I’ll try,”

“That’s all I can ever ask,”

Sleepily, Anakin smiles as they bask in each other’s presence. This close, it’s like they are one person, their individual presences within the Force, one.

“Do try, darling,”

* * *

It’s the turning point in their relationship that Obi-Wan had been waiting for and he can honestly admit he’s not disappointed. Anakin’s passionate, flexible, and willing. He made the cutest noises in the throes of passion, delightfully submissive as he allowed Obi-Wan to lead, and then, afterwards, trustingly he dozed off. He was, arguably, everything Obi-Wan had ever wanted in a partner.

As he pets a hand through Anakin’s blond curls, dampened dark with sweat, he allows himself to feel triumphant. 

This is an important step in the taming of Anakin Skywalker. Most probably the most important next to creating a bond with him. Getting him to talk was the beginning. Physical touch was next. Obi-Wan had to work hard to be worthy of his trust - and there was nothing easy about earning a Jedi’s confidence. Nothing about this mission was easy. 

Obi-Wan had never realized just how ingrained the Jedi’s brainwashing truly went. To never question. To never ask. To be one with the Force, as the Force was never one with them. It was a sad, pitiful existence. Living every day for some other being, for no other reason than it was right. And Anakin, though shakey on the follow-through, showed he knew the foundations of their teaching with every argument, with every day he and Obi-Wan met. He was tenacious, Obi-Wan would give him that, but it was no matter.

He will win. No matter how hard the mission was.

_ At least, _ Obi-Wan thought to himself smugly, as he traced a hand down Anakin’s arm, where the seam of metal and flesh wound together,  _ being in Anakin Skywalker’s presence wasn’t a hardship _ . How worth it every tribulation would be, when finally Anakin was kneeling before him, accepting his place in the world.

His rightful place.

Anakin huffed, burying his head deeper into the pillow as Obi-Wan watched him sleep.

How delightfully endearing. Belly up, Anakin was completely at his mercy. Obi-Wan’s hand flexed reflexively, and he so wanted to touch, with meaning. Hard, deeply, and forcefully. Take what was his, because it  **_was_ ** now his. Before it was just a possibility, but now, Anakin was as good as marked. He couldn’t have claimed him better if he’d tattoo’d his name on his ass.

True ownership came in these moments. In the twilight hours where trust was shown. Where deference was given. Submission was ownership.

Obi-Wan could kill him, right here, right now, and he would never know. All he would know was the pleasure of before. It would be a mercy, probably. To allow this bright light of the Force to die, rather than to flicker and fall into darkness.

It is a good thing then, that Obi-Wan is not a merciful sort of man.

Fingering the amulet, Obi-Wan contemplated his next move while watching Anakin sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annndddd whomp there it is. This is... uhm, well, my first sex scene I have ever written. And ugh. I tried, alright?  
> Hope you guys enjoyed!


	6. Proper Etiquette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan convinces Anakin to spar. The night does not end as they thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, short chapter (really short), but I will update and post the second chapter tonight. I only had time to post this one.  
> This is what it's all been leading up to guys. :)

“I want to spar with you,” Obi-Wan announced the next day.

Anakin was a little thrown by the abrupt non-sequitur. They had been talking about the code, again, mentally sparring as it were. Anakin was coming around to Obi-Wan’s ideas because he could see the merit, but it would ultimately come to nothing. Right? The night before was bright in his mind, making him flush every now and then when he remembered what they had done. Every time Obi-Wan brushed his fingers against him, he blushed. Every time Obi-Wan’s gaze lingered, he fought the nearly uncontrollable need to kiss him. That smirk... Well, Anakin was going to need to be hosed down when he went back to the temple.

And still.

“Sparring?” Anakin asked, cocking his head. “I don’t have any work out clothes with me... though I suppose you have a dojo we could use?”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Clothes are easy. And I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.” He pushed aside a datapad as he leaned forward. His neck stood out in an attractive line, and Anakin was momentarily distracted. “Not tonight, either. Tomorrow? That way we can both prepare,”

“What’s in it for me?” Anakin asked, only really able to look at Obi-Wan’s mouth.

Force, it was a very distracting mouth.

Those lips quirked up. “Besides getting a chance to do what no other Jedi has done publicly in nearly fifty years? Do battle with a Sith?”

_ Alright. Yes. Okay, that was true. _

Anakin, as almost every Jedi Apprentice for the last dozen years, had only sparred with the Masters, the other apprentices, the knights, and rarely with the Elders. He was... not rusty. If anything he was in the best shape of his life, but he was bored and unchallenged. In the old days, century past, Jedi were knighted by killing a Sith.

This would be a mock-battle, but a real test nonetheless.

“Alright,” Anakin agreed, excited now. “What do I need to bring?”

A genuinely predatory smirk crossed Obi-Wan’s face then.

“Think you can steal a lightsaber?”

* * *

The Sith Artifact was a fucking miracle worker.

What other Sith Apprentice could convince their Jedi ‘friend’ to steal a lightsaber to practice with said Sith?

What other Sith Apprentice could bed a Jedi, and have him coming back for more?

What other Sith Apprentice could manage all of this in less than a month?

It was an ego boost, absolutely, and even more so when he informed Qui-Gon of it all. He had to, of course, because he wanted to borrow his Master’s lightsaber.

At first, his Master had looked at him, bemused. Then, when Obi-Wan didn’t retract his words, refused to say it was a joke, he became serious.

“Obi-Wan,” He stated. “It’s been three weeks,”

Obi-Wan smiled.

“I know.”

His Master was confused, perhaps even in awe of him, probably weary about the turn of events and distrustfull, and it was everything Obi-Wan had ever wanted. To show he was a good Sith Apprentice. To prove he was worthy. It was everything to him. He allowed his smug pride to suffuse their bond, to saturate it.That was when Qui-Gon realized just what all of this meant.

“Obi-Wan,” his Master smirked, like a demon, all teeth. “May the Force be with you,”

Then he handed over his lightsaber.

* * *

Anakin ended up taking his Master’s old lightsaber. The one he currently wore on his belt never left, so that wasn’t an option. It shone a brilliant blue when activated, and Anakin stood in awe before the might of the power he now held before ultimately shoving it into his hoodie pocket - ready to do battle.

Nobody even asked him, as he left, where he was going.

* * *

“So we have the whole place to ourselves?” Anakin asked, nervously as he turned on his heel to get the full panoramic effect of a sparring area he had never actually fought in before. It was a novelty. Jedi Apprentices very rarely traveled, and he was no exception to that rule. So this was the first place he would fight outside his Temple for the very first time.

He was reasonably excited, sue him.

“It’s remarkable what someone will do if you just give them enough money,” Obi-Wan said.

He also thought.  _ And threaten to break their kneecaps, but that was neither here nor there. _

Anakin’s smile was worth every single one of their deaths (even though he had only had to kill one person), and he would gladly do it all over again. And again. And again.

“You paid them off? Ha! Should have seen that coming...” Anakin mused. “Well, what can I expect from a Sith?”

“Clearly much,”

Anakin finishing his pirouette and looked at Obi-Wan like he hung the moon.

“I have never fought anyone outside the Order,” Anakin admitted as he grabbed his Master’s lightsaber from his belt. “Since this is informal, is there anything I should know?”

“The way of the Sith, my dear Anakin,” Obi-Wan said with a smirk as he also grabbed his saber from his belt, igniting. “is  _ always  _ informal,”

It was on. Blue light erupted from Anakin’s saber as Obi-Wan sprung forward, and lit his red crystals to full power.

They started off clumsy. Neither actually wanting to hurt each other. Obi-Wan used a defensive style that Anakin had never seen. Anakin used his brute strength and power in the Force with a lot of what Obi-Wan would call ‘passion.’

Completely opposite, they were.

One short, one tall. One calm, one a whirlwind. One full of peace, the other full of passion - and neither following the lines that should have been drawn in the sand. The Sith thought the Jedi fought like a Sith. While the Jedi felt the exact opposite.

Wasn’t the Sith doctrine about passion? If so where was Obi-Wan’s?

If the Jedi indoctrination was about peace, then why did Anakin’s blows shake Obi-Wan to his bones?

Obi-Wan was like the quiet and silent assassin. Each move deliberate, every moment of the fight a thought out puzzle.

Anakin was the storm, raging around him. Not sure his next move, until he made it.

They clashed, and then they drew away when Anakin managed to singe the hair on Obi-Wan’s head, right by his right ear. Only a brief engagement of their blades and the Force  **sang** . At that moment, they knew each other better than ever. If they could have had one hundred conversations; nothing would match up to this experience. Their souls bared to each other. Their lightsabers glowing and creating mesmerizing patterns across the floor, the ceiling, each other.

“We go again?” Anakin asked, his voice a huff, near silent, serious. His eyes bright.

Obi-Wan bared his teeth in a mimicry of a smile. “We go again,”

And they did.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Anakin gave it his all in each and every match. Obi-Wan doubly so.

They came from their latest bout panting. Anakin had lost this time, his shirt ripped at the wrist where Obi-Wan had nicked him. It still smoked and burned.

Anakin had never felt so...  _ alive _ .

Obi-Wan had never felt so...  _ complete _ .

_ If this is what they were like when they  _ **_fought_ ** _ , _  both of them thought as they looked at the other.  _ What were they like together? What were they like fighting on the same side? _

“Glorious,” Obi-Wan whispered to himself, seeing in his mind's eye a burning pyre all around them, both of them smirking, gloating, as they battled and slew all around them.

“Terrifying,” Anakin whispered back, aware just what they could accomplish together: no one would stand in their way. It was too much power for one person, let alone two.

Neither was close enough to hear the other, but somehow, it was transmitted.

* * *

The Force, it seemed, shipped it.

* * *

When they left the dojo, the sun was setting.

“What was that last feign about?” Obi-Wan teased, shoulder-checking Anakin as he blushed. “Did you suddenly forget you had feet?”

“I got distracted!” Anakin defended himself with a flush. Remembering being behind him, looking at his ass, and then just - white-noise.

“Oh?”

That raised eyebrow was distracting too, Anakin thought, and resolutely shoved his hands in his pockets. One hand fingering his Master’s lightsaber. It had felt so... right in his hands.

“Momentary distraction,” Anakin claimed.

“Oh, are you positive,  _ dear one _ ?”

A shiver went down his shine at  _ that  _ tone of voice.

“O-of course,” Anakin stuttered hiding his blushing bright red face away from Obi-Wan.

He barely had a second to respond as Obi-Wan grabbed his shirt front in a fist, twisted him around and shoved him into an alley. For all their sparing a moment ago, Anakin found that fighting was the last thing on his mind.

“I can think of many things that would be ‘momentarily distracting,’ darling,”

And this his lips were on Anakin’s throat.

“But for the life of me,”

His hands traveled from around him, to his back, to his hips and ass in order. A sensual slide. Anakin threw his head back, giving Obi-Wan all the room to work. Obi-Wan slotted himself between Anakin’s widening thighs, bracing himself and the Jedi.

“I can’t imagine you allowing yourself to be distracted... during a duel with  _ a Sith _ ,”

His lips were sinful, Anakin realized as they dragged and teased his bare flesh. One of the Sith’s hands traveled up his body and to the back of his head, tangling in his hair and - yank. Anakin was face to face with the shorter man, panting while he looked composed.

Whining, Anakin burst forward to kiss him.

That was, of course, when the Force around them jolted, stiffened, and shouted:

**WARNING!**

Anakin had only a moment to think before Obi-wan thrust himself away from him and tossed himself backward. It’s not a moment too soon, before a burst of blaster fire pass in front of him. Right on the spot that Obi-Wan would have been.

On both the high from sparing and the abrupt departure from kissing Obi-Wan, Anakin is quick to jump up, landing on the fire escape he had seen out of his peripherals. He’s a trained Jedi, after all, caught unaware as he is. Obi-Wan is behind a dumpster, crouched.

From Anakin’s vantage point, he can see the three beings at the front of the alleyway. They’re decked out in full armor, black and red and green, with blasters raised, and they move forward as one unit, no individuality among them.

Anakin’s heart dropped as he realized the design of the armor:

Mandalorians.

Anakin cursed. If there was a group of people, a cult really, that hated Force-Sensitives more Anakin didn’t know them.

For a second, they didn’t move. Until all it was was action.

One raised a blaster to Anakin, shooting. The other two went for Obi-Wan. Trusting the Force, he dodged and soon found himself back on the ground. His lightsaber in his hand. He felt, for the first time, like a Jedi should. He blocked blast after blast, the energy ricocheting off and back. The Force was with him, flowing within him and overwhelming all of his sense.

He sensed Obi-Wan, a bright light of Force presence, as he fought off the two Mandalorians attacking him, beating them neatly. Had they only been closer, they could have synchronized their movements, protected each other's backs, and won the right way. Anakin moved to begin his dangerous trek closer to the Sith, so they stood a better chance. Both of them began to make their way to each other. Within moments, they were close. So close. Anakin could feel the power within their bond sizzle and fizzle - They would win this.

Instead, Obi-Wan got shot.

The stillness of the Force as Obi-Wan fell backward by the power behind the shot tore Anakin’s focus to shreds.The small sound he made. The wide-openeyes. All he saw was Obi-Wan falling, all he felt was agony, connected they were, after all. Obi-Wan’s pain was his pain, his fire was his fire -  

Suddenly, being a Jedi was the last thing on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #theForceShipsIt and also #ohNo!


	7. Fall from Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin Falls. Obi-Wan rejoices.   
> Qui-Gon is properly flabbergasted when they show up at his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I am very bad at actually writing these chapters in a somewhat coherent manner. Like, one was hella long, then another was like a peanut. I should have just merged them.... Oh well. Hindsight and all that.  
> Still, Anakin finally falls and it was a BUNCH of fun to write!  
> Also - this story is kind of slapped together from a bunch of sleepless nights and minor editing. It's not a work of amazing proportion or anything, but that's because I am really just trying to get better about being soo critical on myself. If I post it, and it's a little wobbly, but you guys like it - it's a win for me :)

He’s kneeling in a pool of blood.

It’s not a vision. This is reality. There is blood in between his fingers, soaked right into his black shirt, ruining his hoodie. It’s cooling at such speed, Anakin wonders if this is all life is: blood and the lack of. He wonders if he’s ever felt this full, if he’s ever felt this empty. Looking up, Obi-Wan appears to him. 

He’s a dazzling view, that’s for sure, nearly halo’d by the light at the entrance of the alley, a glow about him and in much better shape than him. He only has one sleeve ripped; they’d barely touched him, save for the shot. Anakin can’t really think about that, he’s just happy to see him. 

“You look like an Angel,” He whispered.

Perhaps he's always been there. It’s hard to focus, exactly. Everything is too fast, too quick, too much.

Obi-Wan is saying something. Anakin knows he is, but it’s like they are underwater.

He feels... he feels... he feels like he’s on  **fire** .

* * *

Anakin’s kneeling right in front of him, his eyes slowly kaleidoscoping from blue to a light blue, to a pale yellow, his hands are shaking on his thighs and he can’t seem to stop himself from panting.

“You look like an Angel,”

“Oh, darling,” Obi-Wan murmured, bending down and taking his Jedi’s face in between his hands. Thumb tracing the long cut along Anakin’s cheek and eye that he had been given during the fight. “Oh sweetheart, what  _ have  _ they done to you?”

Not what Anakin had done to them, of course, because he can see the sprawling bodies behind him, at a short distance since Anakin had grabbed them and dragged them all towards himself for the killing blow. Three men that had tried to touch Obi-Wan, that had tried to kill him, that had gotten in one shot, and they were laid out. Dead. Necks are broken, limbs were torn from ligaments, bloody, piles of rotting, stinking corpse sat on the stone. And there Anakin was, kneeling at his feet, exhausted, at the tipping point between Light and Dark, falling - falling - staring at him with wide-open eyes, as if he couldn't believe his own actions.

It was possibly, the hottest thing Obi-Wan had ever seen.

The assassins hadn’t been his plan. Perhaps Qui-Gon’s addition to try and help him seduce Anakin, but more than likely the Jedi finding out that there was a Sith presence in their city. Wanting to take out the weaker, younger Sith, before going for the Master. Still, there is a sort of... symmetry in seducing a Jedi from the light straight into the deepest pits of the dark in a manner similar to how his Master had done so. Tahl had nothing on Anakin, though, absolutely nothing. She’d killed the assassins, yes, and done it ruthlessly - but afterward, she’d been nothing but a loyal Sith.

Anakin was already trying to turn back the clock, trying to deny. He would fail. Obi-Wan would make sure of it.

They’ll be famous for this, he’s never been more positive about anything in his life.

And yet, all he cares about, is how Anakin’s shaking breath pants against his face, how Anakin leans forward, bracing himself against Obi-Wan’s forearms, eyes closing in pain, in understanding, in submission.

“Obi-Wan...” He spoke, his voice scratchy, weak, watery. “What have I done?”

“What you had to, Anakin,” Obi-Wan assured him, pulling him closer, wrapping him up in his own Force-presence, making sure it is as dark, as shadowy, as he is able - and makes it a comfort for his Jedi. “You saved my life,”

_ And in the process, _ Obi-Wan thinks, relieved and excited and smug -  _ you’ve lost yours. _

The dark is always a choice. And Anakin has made his.

“I killed them,” Anakin whispered into his collar.

“You did,”

“... My Master will never forgive me,”

“No, I don’t think he will,”

Not to mention the government. They were very... prickly about wayward Jedi mercilessly killing. Even in defense. They had a squad specifically for these kinds of things. Not that Obi-Wan would ever let them touch Anakin.

There was silence for a long moment.

“Did you plan this?”

“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan answers truthfully. He knows how close the Force and Anakin are, so he uses that. “Not like this. I would not have done it like this,”

“... But you have been. Trying to turn me, that is,”

“Do you blame me? I have made no subversion on this subject, at least - surely you can’t think I  _ wouldn’t  _ try and make you Fall?”

“... No,”

They stayed only a moment longer like this. 

“Obi-Wan?”

“Yes, dear?”

“What do we do?”

Obi-Wan pets his hair and smiled. 

* * *

This time, Obi-Wan uses the door. It’s booby-trapped, he knows, but he rings the doorbell nonetheless. Anakin is standing next to him, tense and uncertain, but unable to turn back or away from him. No. He’d made his choice. He had chosen Obi-Wan over the Jedi. Awoken to his new world bathed in blood. Even now his eyes were having trouble deciding on a color, flickering between a pale imitation of his usual blue and sickly yellow.

Obi-Wan’s fit to bursting with pride at his accomplishment. Only twenty-five, nearly out of his Apprenticeship, and he’d made a Jedi Fall. Best of all, he’d made him Fall in such a way that he’d be loyal and obedient to him. Only him.

Oh, he could only  **dare** to dream that the assassins had been Jedi in origin. 

How the Jedi would dig their own grave.

“You’re sure he’s home?’ Anakin asked, arms crossed self-consciously, aware of the Force in a way he never was before. It’s stronger, more potent, Obi-Wan knows, and it leaks from Anakin like a sieve. They’re going to have to get out of Utopia as soon as they can. The Jedi will be looking for their missing Apprentice, after all.

“He’s here,” Obi-Wan assures Anakin. “Or at least close,”

Then the door opens.

“Obi-Wan what have I told you about... using...” His Master’s voice trails off as he looks at Anakin, still covered in blood and in shock. His masters' eyes are wide, his mouth dropped open. It’s the exact reaction Obi-Wan had been hoping for.

He’d told his Master, of course, he had, there were no secrets between them after all, about Anakin - but nothing could honestly explain or give justice to the man at his side. A bright light in the Force, even brought low to the dark as he was - a beacon. He was handsome, too, with those Jedi tattoos at the base of his throat and chin. And even with a mechanical arm; strong. Smart, tenacious, and a born fighter.

Covered, absolutely drenched in sticky blood.

In terms of hunting, it was like Obi-Wan had gone prepared to hunt pheasant-boar, and had managed to bring home a live  _ elephant _ .

“... the door,” Qui-Gon finishes, and he’s speechless. Obi-Wan had never managed speechless before.

Obi-Wan can feel himself want to gloat, and he doesn’t let himself hold it in. He had accomplished a great thing, and he  _ deserved  _ recognition. The taming of Jedi is a time-honored Sith past-time. He’d be knighted to Lord within the month.

“Master,” He said, pulling Anakin closer to his side with only the slightest touch on his opposite hip. A guiding hand, a firm hand, and Anakin followed his lead perfectly, curling closer and un-hunching in on himself. He’s not quite shaking yet, he’s managed to steady himself with the mission at hand, but he’s not all there, Obi-Wan can tell.

“I’d like you to meet Anakin,”

“Anakin Skywalker... is the Jedi you have been...” Qui-Gon was lost for words. 

_ I _ _ never told you his last name before now _ , Obi-Wan thinks. Obi-Wan was confused on the direction where his Master was going with this. He looked at Anakin and saw his Jedi cross his arms defensively. 

“Oh Apprentice, do you even know  _ who  _ Anakin Skywalker is?”

Realizing there seemed to be one more mystery about his Jedi, Obi-Wan sighed.  _ How fitting. _

“He’s a very intelligent Jedi,” Obi-Wan answered, raising a brow. “Or at least, was a Jedi. Why? Oh, and we best get out of here. Anakin killed three assassins sent for me.”

Qui-Gon chuckled, looking a little pale from disbelief, giving Anakin a once-over in appreciation at the blood. 

“Well, then. Come in, come in, we best have this conversation while we pack,”

_ Conversation?  _ Obi-Wan blinked _. What could they possibly have to converse about? And why did it matter who Anakin was? Wasn’t one Jedi just as important as the other? _

Still, he steered the uncharacteristically silent Anakin inside their small two-person apartment.

“Anything you want to let me in on?” He asked the Jedi dryly as Qui-Gon ducked into his room.

“Erm, well, uhm...” He looked shaky, eyes still too wide, after his slaughter of the bounty-hunters. “In my defense, you never asked?”

Obi-Wan raised an unpressed eyebrow. “I never asked what?”

What could they possibly have bypassed in their conversations? Was Anakin secretly a woman at heart? He knew that Anakin was a  _ he  _ since they had sex, and he’d never had a problem with pronouns... What else did some people have a problem with? Obi-Wan was drawing a blank. They’d talked through everything else. Anakin confided in him about  _ everything _ .

“You honestly don’t know?” Anakin asked, poking and prodding at his own Force presence.

Obi-Wan makes himself completely bare, open, and honest.

“No.”

Anakin mumbled something then.

Obi-Wan frowned. “I didn’t catch that,”

“Imkindof _ thechosenone _ ...”

That was about as useful as the silence of before. Obi-Wan huffed, aggravated. “Honestly, Anakin, I can’t understand a word you just said. Speak up -”

“My mid-count is 23,000,” Anakin snapped, staring ahead. Obi-Wan’s voice died in his throat. “ At eight, they didn’t want to train me - but they wanted the Sith to train me  _ even less _ . The Jedi allowed my training because I’m one of the most powerful Force-Sensitives around. They knew I had trouble with emotions and attachments, but they were under a great deal of pressure from the government and they had to take me on so I wouldn’t be a ‘problem’ or turn ‘feral’,”

Obi-Wan was now the one who was silent. 

That count... His own was only at fourteen-thousand. Nothing to scoff at, but also nothing noticeable.

“They call me the Chosen One,” Anakin muttered.

**Everyone** knew about the Chosen One.

_ Welp. Alright then. That was... that was a pretty good secret to keep from a Sith _ . Obi-Wan chuckled to himself. It turned into a laugh that he couldn’t control. 

Anakin flushed, angry. “Hey now, it’s not that funny,”

“It’s not funny,” Obi-Wan gasped in between laughter. “It’s hilarious! I thought for sure you’d be shorter!” 

Anakin’s mouth quirked into a grin, but he also tried to smother it. Valiantly.

He failed and was soon smiling as Obi-Wan doubled over and fell on his ass laughing.

“I had no idea,” Obi-Wan stated as he tried to get his breath back. “None whatsoever. How on Coruscant have you contained yourself? How the kark did you manage that with the Jedi spouting their nonsense of letting your emotions go?”

“I - uhm - didn’t?”

Obi-Wan lost it again. The Jedi had known Anakin was a lost cause, but rather than letting him go, or letting him down gently, they had created a perfect environment to incubate his Fall. What better way to turn a Jedi than to make them different, un-unified, shame him for his attachments, and do nothing but tell him to meditate  _ more _ ?

Anakin was not amused.

“I apologize,” Obi-Wan said after he managed to contain his uproarious laughter. “I just can’t believe I was so willfully blind as to not question your power, but just think,” With a rather feral grin of his own, he yanked Anakin close as he rose back to his feet. 

“My own Chosen One,” He pushed pleasure. He pushed elation. He pushed unabashed glee.

Anakin’s eyes fluttered, leaning in, as it all swirled around them. He whimpered, nose nudging Obi-Wan’s own. Obi-Wan pets his cheek and gave him what he wanted. Soft lips met his own and he made sure to transmit how clearly pleased he was with Anakin. All of him. Especially his power level. Especially how sweet his submission was. Especially the blood that now coated them both.

Especially his choices.

“ _ Eh- _ **_ehm_ ** ,” 

Anakin stiffened in his arms, but Obi-Wan held tight and finished kissing him, making it very clear  _ who  _ was in charge of him. When they parted he turned to his Master.

“Master,” He greeted, with a shit-eating grin. Qui-Gon shared one of his own.

“The fucking chosen one, Obi-Wan, really?” He said, exasperated. “You said you wanted to seduce a Jedi, and I am all for exploring extracurricular pursuits, but really? If this doesn’t cause a war, I don’t know what will,”

And both of the Sith knew that  _ everyone  _ had been looking forward to that. 

The battlefield hadn’t been watered in oh so long. And now... now they had the Chosen One on their side.

Force, they both could see the effect on moral that would have. How immediate it would be. How sure. How certain. There was much to be said for fighting and knowing you were going to win - it was an entirely new thing to know your backup was a man with a mid-count in the 20,000s!

“Jedi are completely allowed to leave the Order whenever they want,” Obi-Wan defended, pulling away and wrinkling his nose as the sticky blood between them. “Can we talk about this once we’re all packed? Anakin and I really should shower,”

“I’ll leave out some clothes,” Qui-Gon said, looking Anakin over. “They’ll be a little big, but there is no way he’s fitting into anything you own,”

“Except perhaps a shirt,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“Go,” His Master commanded, shooing them to the bathroom. “We really don’t want to be stopped before we get to the shipport,”

“Of course, Master,” Obi-Wan tugged Anakin with him, right into the bathroom. “Come on, Anakin, let’s get you cleaned up,”

The door shut behind them and Obi-Wan was already half-naked. Anakin was having a little trouble, on account of his hands shaking, and the blood having matted the clothing he wore together into a mishmash of hard and soft, the buttons hard and burdensome. So, obviously, Obi-Wan used the Force to turn on the water as he helped divest Anakin of this mess of a wardrobe.

Soon enough, it was done, and their clothing was scattered on the ground. Obi-Wan coaxed Anakin under the warm water. It seemed to wake him up. Not that he had been asleep, but Obi-Wan had seen better coloring on a lamp.

“Darling?” 

Anakin hesitated, head leaning back so it could start wetting the matted blood and hair. 

“I'm - I don't - This is all going so...”

“Fast?” Obi-Wan offered, helping to wash his front. He was stained, and Obi-Wan wanted to take his time - but that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. They had to move. Anakin righted himself, water streaming pink down his face as he licked his lips.

“Force.  _ Yes _ .”

“You’re feeling a little off, it’s totally natural. The high you got, from killing those assassin's, it will only last so long. You’re going to crash soon,” He told him authoritatively. “Which is another reason we need to get out of here. I don’t expect you’ll last much longer outside of the shower,”

The pink tint to the water was starting to run towards clear.

_Good_ , Obi-Wan thought, noticing Anakin’s shaking starting to get a little worse for wear.

“Let me know if you need to purge, alright?”

Anakin looked at him blearily but nodded.

Obi-Wan grabbed his chin. “Verbally, Anakin,”

“Yes, I'll tell you,”

The Sith smiled and kissed him quickly, just a peck in terms of a real kiss, but enough to shock Anakin back to the waking world. “ _ Good boy _ ,” Anakin responded even better to that, a shiver running down his spine. “Now let’s dry ourselves off. We can take a bath and really clean ourselves once we get to the Temple,”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what it meant when Anakin’s Force presence soured, but he knew they didn’t have time to deal with it. He dried himself off and got dressed much more quickly than Anakin, mostly on account of knowing exactly where his things were. Then he kept an eye on Anakin as he grabbed up the few objects in the apartment he cared for.

A few datapads, his med-pack, his repair kit, his spare clothing, and whatever he had in his top drawer next to his bed. He smirked to himself noticing the lube. Instead of putting that in the bag, he pocketed it. Who knew what the future would bring them, after all. 

As he was finishing, Anakin was pulling on a long-sleeved t-shirt of Qui-Gon’s. His neck tattoos were on display, bright and blue and green, a swirling mass. Even though the weather of the city was pretty mild, Obi-Wan grabbed a scarf and tangled it around his Jedi’s throat.

“Think silent. Think hidden,” Obi-Wan ordered him. “Your Force presence is blinding on a good day, sweetheart, and we need to slide  _ under  _ the radar. Like me, feel,” Obi-Wan made sure to place his hand against his cheek, settled himself as he’d told Anakin to, and showed him.

It was as if Anakin wasn’t even there, how quickly he disappeared into the Force on just a few encouraging words from Obi-Wan. The man smiled to himself. Oh how the Jedi had done wrong by his Anakin. 

And how they were going to regret ever failing him.

“Time to go, Apprentice,” Qui-Gon called for them.

Obi-Wan smiled up at Anakin, holding out his hand. “Shall we?” 

Anakin grabbed for him like he was a lifeline. Obi-Wan didn’t ask if he was ready. If he could handle it. He took the initiative and told Anakin they were fine, in the only way he knew how. He squeezed his hand, and then dragged him right out.

There was only a second of resistance.

Then, Anakin was all his.

 

* * *

The ship they were on was private, sleek, and had Anakin damn near drooling. Or at least, he would have, if he wasn’t currently sitting in the tiny bathroom, trying to get the awful taste of throw-up out of his mouth. Obi-Wan was crouched next to him, hand in his hair, petting. It was little comfort.

“I ripped them apart,” He said. The vivid remembrance echoed behind his closed eyes.

How he had taken the Force in hand and warped it to his own needs. How it had obeyed. The sickly sweet smell of blood. The way they screamed. It all flashed behind his eyes and Anakin clenched his hands into fists, trying to keep in the here and now.

"They were powerless against me,"

“I know,”

“I snapped one of their necks. And the other one, I ripped off his arms. When the third tried to run, I grabbed their heart and squeezed. They all screamed for only a few seconds before I finished them off... It was easy... like cracking an egg or snapping a celery stalk,”

“I didn’t know that, but I saw the aftermath,” Obi-Wan’s hand was still in his hair, petting. Petting. Petting. “You did well, Anakin,”

“... When do I start feeling guilty?”

Obi-Wan was smiling, Anakin knew he was, but he didn’t care. 

“Why should you feel guilty?”

“I murdered them. It goes against everything I believe in,”

“Except, it must not if you don’t feel guilty,” 

“I just tossed my cookies after killing them,” Anakin looked up through his fringe, too weak to be truly angry. “How does that not indicate that it’s wrong? My own body is rejecting it!”

“It’s called shock,” Obi-Wan explained, calmly. “This shall pass. I promise,”

Anakin sniffled, leaning his head back. “I’m too tired to fight, but I have to know... what was your plan to make me Fall?”

Obi-Wan chuckled, but he already had Anakin right where he wanted him. The truth will set you free, after all. Reaching under his shirt, Obi-Wan pulled out the amulet. With a careless tug, the cord snapped. He let it dangle from his fingers.

“This is the Heart of Revan. This was my plan to make you Fall,”

Anakin reached forward, touching the amber. It no longer felt inert, dumb in the force, or inorganic; no, now it was a pulsing heart of darkness. It curled tendrils of the Force around his fingers and tugged. Anakin frowned severely. Master Windu's words came back to him: If it has a brain, and you don't know where it is; don't trust it.

“So... it was all a trick?”

Obi-wan was quick to nip that in the bud. “No. Never. All of your thoughts, your feelings, were your own. The amulet just made it a more attractive option to seek  **me** out to help you question everything than your Jedi Masters,”

"You still manipulated me," Anakin said, but there wasn't a lot of heat behind his words. He was exhausted from lashing out angrily. 

"I'm a Sith, darling. I was always going to manipulate you,"

“... So, what you're saying is, it moved up the timeline... not the actual event?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “You were made for the Sith, Anakin, I can feel it. Every time we touched, or shared, every single time our bond strengthened when we were within close proximity,” He cupped his cheek. “You were made for  _ me _ , darling, and I plan to keep you,”

Speaking directly to that little boy still trapped inside Anakin was exactly what Obi-Wan had been doing this entire time. The little boy who had been shunned, who had been ostracized, who had been made to feel less and less, even as he grew more and more powerful. Nobody deserved what he had gone through, but that’s exactly what the world was - it took and took and took.

It was about time Anakin was the one taking.

Obi-Wan leaned forward, breathing in Anakin and the slightly rank smell of him.

"The Jedi never would appreciate you like I can, how I will. Everything they've ever told you are just lies, build on lies, hidden behind lies. I won't ever lie to you, understand? I won't ever give you an option without telling you exactly what the consequences are. This, I can swear, easily," Obi-Wan proclaimed, boldly. "I wanted to make you Fall, not just because you were a Jedi, and attractive, and strong, and smart, and the whole package deal - but because I **do** genuinely like you, Anakin Skywalker. Every bit of you you've shown to me,"

“I’d kiss you but I kind of taste like death right now,” Anakin joked, but he was much more relaxed. Obi-Wan had apparently been able to assuage his fears, his inadequacies. 

“Hmmm, I appreciate that, truly.” Obi-Wan smirked as Anakin glared. “Are you feeling well enough to go sit in the cabin?”

“I don’t think I have anything left inside me...” Anakin admitted but didn’t move.

“Hmmm,” Obi-Wan agreed, feeling a little exhausted himself. Seeing his chance though, he moved forward to straddle Anakin’s lap. Immediately and instinctively, Anakin’s hands went to his hips, his eyes snapped open wide and a pleased smile crossed his face.  Neither was going to do anything. Both of them were too tired. Anakin, for his part, relaxed under the solid, comforting weight of Obi-Wan. That didn’t stop Obi-Wan from leaning forward, tracing the Jedi tattoo on his neck. Anakin stiffened at the touch, well aware of what marked his skin.

“I’ve never seen a Fallen Jedi,” Anakin admitted, baring his throat to further exploration by Obi-Wan’s fingertips. “Is there a way to get this removed? Is that... is that what Fallen Jedi do?”

Obi-Wan felt his heart jump into his throat - killing a bunch of assassins was one thing, but so readily shedding his Jedi mantle? 

_ This was progress. _

“Hmmm, would you like it to be a surprise, or would you like an honest answer?” Obi-Wan asked because the answer varied. Widely. Some got rid of them. Others corrupted them. And still, others had a marriage of Sith and Jedi tattoos. And even more created a mocking tribute to their Jedi once-Elders, face’s tainted with a bastardized version of their tattoo that had a life of its own. Those were the most beautiful, Obi-Wan thought.

Anakin hesitated. He took most everything Obi-Wan said under advisement, and if he was warning him off about this topic, it was because it was a lengthy one.

“It can keep,” Anakin whispered.

In reward, Obi-Wan trailed kisses up his throat, over the warm tattoo on his neck, under his chin, to his ear. “I’ll introduce you to a few Fallen Jedi who can explain better than I,” He promised. “You’ll never want for companionship,”

Anakin’s grip on his hips flexed, like a dangerous feline showing off its powerful paws to its Master, before ultimately fluttering to a much nicer hold. With a humm, Anakin dragged Obi-Wan into a warm embrace.

“Tell me it’s going to be fine,” Anakin begged.

“Of course it’s going to be fine,” Obi-Wan ran his hands through Anakin’s crazy blond hair. “I have the utmost faith in us.”

Anakin would learn. He was power, he was beauty, and he would help the Sith to bring the natural Order back to the world. With Obi-Wan at his side, guiding him - they could do no wrong.

_ Or rather, _ Obi-Wan thought with a grin.  _ They were going to do a whole  _ **_lot_ ** _ of wrong. _

_ But because might made right, it would only be right. _

* * *

Qui-Gon looked across the aisle at his Apprentice and the Jedi he had managed to bend to his will. Except, the Jedi is nothing like how Tahl had been when she had Fallen. All deadly, sure-fire grace, kneeling before him and pledging her knife to his use only. No. The Jedi retains much of himself, still shaky, with those yellow eyes that burn and spark - the Force around him feels Sith, but he himself still looks like a Jedi.

Even still, there is much about the kid that shows Obi-Wan’s influence. The smirk. The sarcasm. Even the eerie synchronicity they both share, their connection in the Force shining through... How the kid had only picked it up within a month, Qui-Gon will never know, except that Tahl had been the same way. Perhaps it was the artifact at play, bending the mind of the weaker, the Jedi, to the Sith’s whims. It certainly made sense. 

He couldn’t help but smile as Obi-Wan explained something to Skywalker. Skywalker, in turn, made some quip that made Obi-Wan smile.

And hadn’t that been a surprise.

Obi-Wan had been secretive about his project, not wanting his Master’s interference, but still asking advice. Qui-Gon knew he would succeed. There was just no other possibility. Once Obi-Wan had his mind set on something, he was getting it. End of story. The Jedi would fall to his Apprentice, and they would be one Sith stronger this year.

What Qui-Gon hadn’t expected, was the complete submission he felt from the supposed Chosen One to his Apprentice. It went deeper than loyalty, or affection, or the sum of both. Obi-Wan had won the man’s heart. Even  **after** revealing the artifact’s usage. He didn’t feel a negative emotion or leaning within the Force, at least not towards his Apprentice, and the man was projecting quite strongly - unused to the new angle the Force was showing him.

Kark. Not even Tahl would have been okay with his manipulations... and yet, Obi-Wan had managed it.

And in a  _ month _ .

His Apprentice was all grown up.

_ And just think,  _ Qui-Gon thought with a smile as he leaned back.  _ All it took was three disgraced Mandalorians looking for a payday. _

Tahl was going to be very happy they weren’t going to have to actually pay them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Qui-Gon and Tahl set the Assassins upon them. :) You're welcome. Sith grand-pa Qui-Gon for the win!


	8. Virtue of the Acolyte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive at the Sith temple, Tahl reveals something to Anakin about all Fallen Jedi, and Obi-Wan cooks.  
> [We finally get some tattoo closure.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annddddd, I'm done :)  
> :)  
> Enjoy!

The temple they go to is located in Peru, in an almost obscure part of an obscenely heavily, densely forested area. It’s a hidden sort of place, a secret, and it shows in every single way from the overgrown foliage on the outside to the inside that is dim in the foyer, but that slowly grew brighter the further in they went, until, finally, they reached an artificially lighted dome, as huge as a city. When they arrived, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin are lead to their suite by a fresh faced Apprentice who couldn’t help but stare at Anakin’s throat tattoos.

Anakin waffled at the unabashed staring, nervous, and out of place, but Obi-Wan slid his hand smoothly into his own and glared at the younger man with intent. The Apprentice took the hint, flushed, and turned around and didn’t say a word as he lead the way. Not to say that everyone else around the Temple grounds didn’t look, and stare, and whisper to themselves.

Obi-Wan transmitted by touch that Anakin shouldn’t be afraid. Nor nervous.

All these people were staring because he was chosen. By Obi-Wan. For Obi-Wan’s purposes. A Jedi in this Temple was here for only one reason:

Because they Fell.

 _You’re fine, Anakin,_ Obi-Wan seemed to say. _All will be fine._

Anakin wasn’t sure exactly what to take from that sharing, but he squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand back in thanks for the support. Obi-Wan flashed him a smirk, a smirk that said he was the one in charge, he was the one who brought Anakin, he was responsible for him. If possible, that made Anakin let the stress flow from his shoulders, allowed himself to relax.

He was Fallen - what else could be worse than that?

Growing in confidence, he looked around at the beautiful temple around him. It was built out of some kind of black rock, that glowed and shimmered, and was engraved deep enough to show the grooves as nothing but a trick of the light. The lights from the torches and artificial sun, were dimmed in the presence of so much black.

“Here,” The Apprentice said, after many twists and turns. “Lady Tahl awaits, Lord Othello,”

“I’m aware,” The older and taller man, Qui-Gon, said, shooing the kid away.

The kid gratefully ran off, never once looking back.

“Come along you two,” Obi-Wan’s Master said, opening the door. “We’ve got much to discuss.”

Anakin gulped.

“Oh, shush, darling,” Obi-Wan assured him, stroking a finger down his fist. “He just wants to know about the assassins, and how we met, all of those fun things,”

The Jedi - ex-Jedi, he reminded himself - was startled by how much this was starting to look like a... meet the parents type deal.

“Who - uh - uhm who is Tahl?” Anakin asked, finding his voice for the first time off the plane.

Obi-Wan gave him a dazzling smile, but ultimately said nothing as he dragged him inside. The lights from outside faded away as he shut the door tight behind them.

* * *

Tahl was a tall, like her mate, but from there it was all different. She was black, for one thing, and damn near shaved bald, with large ornate jewelry, and a gold and white robe that reminded Anakin of his home temple, cut the right way a Jedi would wear it too -

Which is why it wasn’t such a shock to look at her face, her throat, and see the winding tattoo of a Jedi.

It was a beautiful tattoo, too. Stark white against her skin, with the faintest hints of a rainbow behind the needlework. It had grown from her left side, under her collar, with long strokes, up to her eyebrow, down her nose, to her other ear. Then it looped back, into a mask around her eyes that was like scar tissue. Where many Jedi had the symbols of leaves, flowers, hearts, raindrops, and other things that denoted life, Tahl once again differed. Her symbols were harsher: broken rivers, dead end twigs, leaves mimicking not life but death and crumpling in on themselves. Her throat looked Jedi, but as it branched up to her face, it was corrupt. The lines too deep, fragile and brittle all at once, and yet unbreakable.

She was a Fallen Jedi.

And, if Anakin decided to keep his tattoo, what he might end up looking like in the near future.

“You didn’t mention how cute he was, Obi-Wan,” Was the first thing out of that mouth that smiled like a big cat, all predatory, all danger, but amused, too. Still, Anakin was comforted by that. He remembered his mother’s friends, done up all pretty and wicked and sensual. Though she would tease, and bark, and hiss, she would never play with her food. It was beneath her.

“I barely mentioned anything, Master,” Obi-Wan snorted, dragging Anakin forward. “Now, introductions, yes?”

“Of course,” Tahl nodded, and gave an elaborate Jedi bow to Anakin. “Tahl, Fallen Jedi, at your service,”

“Anakin Skywalker,” He said, and clenched his hand in Obi-Wan’s. “And I guess I’m a Fallen Jedi, too,”

Obi-Wan sent him a little thrill of pride.

Tahl’s smile turned a little softer than, but that was only by the smallest of degrees. A knife was still a knife, even if it was just dulled. “Pretty fucking weird, huh? One day a Jedi, the next a mass murderer running away with the guy who decided to lead you to the darkside. Tough breaks, huh?”

Anakin laughed, an abrupt and harsh sound. It was exactly what it was. Tahl smirked at that.

It was strange, and sad, Anakin thought. Only a few seconds with this woman and he already felt more kinship to her than he ever had to anyone in the temple.

_I guess that’s what happens when you kill people._

Qui-Gon came up behind her, resting a possessive arm around her waist and his head on her shoulder. She leaned into him with great pleasure, closing her eyes and sighing deeply. Their connection thrumming loud enough that it was a physical sound - one long note of happiness.

“I assume I need no introduction?” Obi-Wan’s Master asked.

Anakin shook his head. “No, it’s clear your Obi-Wan’s Master, Qui-Gon Jinn,”

“He’s told you a lot about me?”

Again, Anakin shook his head. “No. He told me your name when we were leaving the... uhm... scene of the crime, so to speak,”

Now it was Obi-Wan’s turn to laugh.

“Just call it what it was, love,”

Qui-Gon waved him away. “I think we get the picture. Though I would like a clearer understanding of what happened. Please, continue with what you promised Apprentice,”

“We’d just gotten finished sparring,” Obi-Wan began to tell the story. “When all of the sudden we were attacked by three Mandalorians... “

It sounded much braver, much more impressive, and a lot more put together when Obi-Wan tells the story. Anakin didn’t remember it being that... easy. Like he’d just overexerted a muscle, rather than killed three men and bathed in their blood.

By the end of it, Qui-Gon was looking at him in appreciation.

All while Tahl was looking at him with something close to pity.

“We are going to talk,” She announced, darting forward and grabbing Anakin’s hand to drag him away. “Jedi things,”

Anakin looked behind him for any kind of help from Obi-Wan, but the man was just cocking his head curiously as his Master came up behind him and said a variety of the same thing: They needed to talk.

“Uhm - where are we -”

“Shhh!”

Anakin was pretty good at following those kinds of orders and shut his mouth. It was then that Tahl dragged him out to a small garden off their balcony. She motioned for him to jump down, so they could get to the grassy floor below them. Puzzled, Anakin did so. Tahl was not far behind.

“Now, sit,” She said, as she plopped onto the ground, not worried about it being soggy in the slightest. “We need to straighten some things out, alright?”

A little hesitant, Anakin obeyed.

“Alright...”

She smiled at him. It was a lot more tired than the last smile. A lot less like a big cat, and more like a caged bird. She looked to the biggest tree to the side, staring.

“You were a Jedi. Now you’re a killer. You’ve killed three people, and you can never go back to the Jedi. You’re a Fallen Jedi now kid, do you understand what that means?”

He knew she knew he didn’t know. Still, she had asked, so he took a deep breath and tried to think through his answer. It was true he was Fallen. That much he knew, but the histories, the legends, the mythos about those that fell to the darkside were few and far inbetween. The Jedi had nearly forbid any content.

Anakin didn’t blame them. Why would they allow a how-to-fall guide after all?

“I touched the darkside and now I need to learn how to use it so it doesn’t.. uhm... eat me whole and spit me out like I’m so much a leaf in the wind?”

Tahl threw her head back and laughed. Throaty and loud.

“HA! I knew I was gonna like you kid,” She said, patting him on his knee harshly. “You got the right idea, too, but there’s more. Alright?”

Anakin nodded.

“These Sith, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, they don’t understand what it’s like to be torn away from the light,” She began, all at once serious. “They’ve lived in darkness their whole lives. It changes people in the most basest of ways. As Jedi, as the Jedi we once were, we touched on the pureness of the Force that was all about selflessness. These Sith of ours, won’t ever really see that,”

Silent, Anakin waited for her to continue.

“Here’s a secret they never tell you: We’re never going to be Sith, alright?”

Anakin reeled back, shocked. “Wait. What? Why?... How?”

Tahl waved away his concerns. “Sith are born, kid, alright? They’re taught in darkness, they live in darkness - it’s mostly all they know. Sure, the world and the Sith will call us Sith, but we’re not. We’re _Fallen_. They call us Acolyte when they think we’re not looking, and that’s the best other title we got, alright? Fallen, Acolyte, or whatever your specialty is. Lady and Lord, sure, when they want to - but we’re not like them,”

Tahl impressed that on him with a heavy hand on his leg. Anakin felt a little shaky but also... relieved? Perhaps there was a better word, but it was the one that worked.

“What makes us so different?”

Tahl sighed.

“We’re stronger, we’re more connected to the Force since we’ve seen both sides to it, but on the flip side of that - we need anchors. A person who connects us to the world, when we most certainly do not want to be,”

He was appalled. “ _Why_?”

“Because we’re better, kid. In every single way we’re better, except one,” She grew serious again. “We’ve touched it all. The light. The dark. Everything. It may take us a while, but once we balance out - there is nothing we can’t do. We’re adrift, though. Our connections to the Force are strong, sometimes too strong, and it pulls us away from our mortal bodies cause the Force, kid? The Force is kind of a dick and _really_ fucking possessive,”

“I’m sorry, are you saying the Force is trying to kill us,” Anakin asked, slack jawed. “and the only reason we’re not, like, astral projecting is because we’re connected to the Sith here on coruscant?”

“Fallen Jedi,” Tahl said, as if that explained everything.

“This makes no sense,” Anakin muttered, hunching on himself. “What does that even mean for us?”

“Ultimately?”

Anakin nodded for her to go on.

“Nothing,”

He startled at that, glaring at her. “Then what was the point of telling me?”

She smirked. “Because you got to know, it’s a thing all of us Jedi, all of us Fallen Jedi, share among each other. Only us, though, got it? The Sith have their secrets, and we have ours. The Sith already think they’re the Force’s gift to the world, -” She rolled her eyes and sighed-” and it’s up to us to make sure they don’t get too big of heads. Alright? Keep them grounded on the _here_ and the _now_. Of course, it also helps to have someone holding our leash, even if we do go overboard and go wild,”

Anakin still didn’t think he understood but he nodded. “So... what else?”

She clapped her hands, “Oh darling, have we got things to talk about!"

"We do?"

"Yes, of course -" A gleam to her eye-"want to know about Sith Tattoos?”

Anakin sat forward eagerly.

“Do I ever!” Anakin admitted breathlessly as he leaned forward. Tahl set into an explanation right away, wiping away the last conversation to the back of their minds. Anakin still chewed on it, but this topic they were now on had been niggling him for weeks. And now he was getting answers.

* * *

Anakin was gone with Tahl for almost an hour. Obi-Wan would have started to panic and think she was trying to help him escape, except Qui-Gon said that the other Fallen Jedi, Vos, had done the same thing when she had first come to the temple. It was some kind of exercise, a tradition if you will, and passing on of vital information to deal with being a Sith now, or something. It was necessary, Qui-Gon said.

So, Obi-Wan waited. And he cooked. It was a quirk he had. Nervous cooking. Qui-Gon and Tahl had never minded, and now his Master doubly didn't mind. Fallen Jedi talks apparently took a lot out of them.

“So... that’s really it?” Anakin asked, his voice faint but Obi-Wan would know it anywhere.

“Yup. All the secrets, little man,”

“I am so not little, we’re the same height,”

“And yet, you’re not going to get any cool, badass tattoos within the next few months,”

Anakin whined. They were getting closer.

“Completely not fair. I should think killing three Mandalorians’ qualifies as my trial, or whatever the Sith have,”

“Like I said, kid, the Sith are weird. You go up a level when you go and talk to the head honcho himself and he thinks you’re worthy of it. I had to kill like forty people before he’d give me any acknowledgment,”

“Who, uh, that’s Sidious, right?”

“Yup, and his right-hand man and fellow Fallen Jedi?”

“Dooku! I remember that scandal a few years ago... was it true what they said?”

“About Sidious seducing him to the dark side with slow music and dancing?”

“Yeah,”

“Eh, partially. Sidious used that same artifact that Obi-Wan used with you. Opens the Jedi up to more susceptible to the dark side. Or, well, I guess it would be more like it creates a yearning to be near the dark, to learn about the dark - that kind of thing,”

“... That would explain a lot of my weird cravings this past month,”

“It doesn’t make you do anything, just put the option there when it wasn’t there before. Make sure you know that. You and Obi-Wan are good for each other, and I can see much destruction in your future,”

“Uh... uhm, thanks?”

“You’re welcome, now let’s get inside before your Sithling has a heart attack because I stole you away,”

They were close enough that when Obi-Wan snorted, they could see him first.

“You wouldn’t get far,” The Sith Apprentice claimed. “Besides, Anakin is mine. Not yours. Come over, Anakin,”

It was gratifying to see him obey. Settled a little part of himself that had grown and grown the longer he had worn the Heart of Revan and had further entangled himself with the Chosen One.

Tahl and Anakin shared one, inscrutable look before Anakin was by his side over the cooking food.

“Try,” Obi-Wan said, stabbing some chicken and then handing the fork over to Anakin. “Tell me if it needs anything. I’m still learning your tastes,”

The low, loud groan of pleasure that came from Anakin’s throat was worth it all. And more. Obi-Wan smirked, satisfied he had once again reclaimed his place in Anakin’s life. Not that Tahl could ever match up to him in this, at least. For one thing, she certainly didn’t have a penis. For another, she wasn’t a true Sith.

“You should have just cooked for me,” Anakin complained as Obi-Wan took the fork back from him. “I would have Fallen right then and there,”

Obi-Wan grabbed his shirt, pulled him down to his face level. “Come now, Anakin, darling - not in front of the rents, ey?”

Anakin blushed as Tahl and Qui-Gon cackled behind them.

\---------------------

It was night. The first night of his Fall. Anakin laid on the bed and stared up at the ceiling as Obi-Wan undressed at his side. He had left everything of his behind, not that there was much to claim besides robes and his mechanical equipment, so he only had a pair of sleep pants that Qui-Gon had allowed him to borrow with a rather salacious grin. As a Jedi, he had never coveted, not really. But now, as this thing he was, he realized he wanted those creature comforts. His songblock, his datapads, his comfy clothes.

“Can we go steal my stuff?” Anakin asked, turning his head, as Obi-Wan knelt on the bed.

“Hmmm, what in particular would you like stolen?”

“My datapads, the work I’ve been doing on my prosthetics. Maybe some of the ore I mined down under the temple,” Anakin listed as Obi-Wan got closer before he finally moved to straddle him. “Clothes,”

“Oh, now that last one, absolutely not,” He leaned over him, the perfect position to kiss him. “Why would I ever want you to be fully covered up, ever again?”

He was bared chested, the amulet nowhere in sight. Anakin thought for a moment that it would all be different, that nothing would be the same without the amulet, but he was wrong. That spark of attraction was true, the fire low in the pit of his stomach that was all nervous energy and butterflies still existed, and Anakin grabbed Obi-Wan by his hips.

“Hmmm, you wouldn’t get jealous of other’s looking?”

Obi-Wan paused in, his lips an inch away. Their touch transmitted so much. Obi-Wan had realized what others would see when they looked at Anakin: a prize, something to be won, a commodity. A hot, one at that. And that was completely unacceptable to the Sith, the Sith realized abruptly.

“First thing on the agenda, then,” Obi-Wan said, getting up off of Anakin.

Anakin flailed as Obi-Wan got up and went to the door. Up on his elbows, he watched as Obi-Wan called out to Qui-Gon to send someone to go steal Anakin’s stuff from the temple: it would be less suspicious. They would assume he ran away then.

Blinking, Anakin watched as Obi-Wan relocked the door and then turned around.

“Satisfied?”

The fire in the pit of his stomach?

Yeah, that just exploded into a supernova.

Neither of them got much sleep that night.

* * *

“We’ve got a meeting with the Master later today,” Obi-Wan said to him, as Anakin had his head pillowed in his lap out by that tree Tahl had taken him too. After a filling breakfast, Qui-Gon and Tahl had left to go do business, leaving the two boys to their own devices.

“Hmmm,” Anakin hummed, lazily. A stark purple bruise stood out against his throat next to his Jedi tattoos. “Anything I should know?”

“Anything you _want_ to know?”

Anakin paused, eyes still closed, tried to practice his ‘air of aloofness’ but ever since his Fall he’d not been able to manage it. Tahl said it would come in time, but for now, he was just a maelstrom of emotions in the Force.

“Should I be afraid?”

Obi-Wan chuckled.

“Good question. And no, you shouldn’t,” Obi-Wan dragged a hand through his curls.”You belong to me, after all. If you should fear anyone, it should be **me** ,”

And Anakin thought to what Tahl had said. About Sith. About Acolytes. About the way this new world worked. About how to corrupt a tattoo, about how to make it grow, until bit by bit it consumed you. About how the Sith Master and the Sith Master’s Right Hand Man, we're just like Tahl and Qui-Gon, and Anakin and Obi-Wan. About how the Sith were darkness, but the Acolytes, the Jedi that Fell, were something else entirely.

And he thought of how the Force worked in mysterious ways.

* * *

 

Sidious is an old man. Way past his prime, with a face like a prune, and a body to match. Dooku, on the other hand, looks no more than forty when Anakin knows he’s nearly seventy. How an old wrinkly man managed to seduce a Jedi... Anakin would never know.

“Anakin Skywalker,” Master Sidious says, in greeting, in a piercing sort of way. “I was wondering who would make you Fall,”

Had he not already been kneeling and bowed head, his surprise stiffening would have been all the more transparent. Sidious... knew of him? Him? Anakin Skywalker? Granted he was the Chosen One, or at least, that’s what everyone told him, but this was different.

This was obviously a man who believed it.

It seemed Sidious didn’t need an answer to continue talking.

“For many years we’ve watched your progress,” Sidious said. “I knew that you were of the age to begin your descent into darkness, but not even I could imagine that you would Fall to one of my most faithful Apprentices,”

“Tell me, Obi-Wan, how did you make Skywalker Fall?”

Obi-Wan straightened up from his bow but did not rise.

“Master,” Obi-Wan answered with the proper tone. No mockery to it. “The Heart of Revan aided me greatly, as well as my lessons in debate, negotiation, and our code. The Jedi, I’ll admit, did most of my work for me, when they refused to use Anakin to the most of his abilities and continually held him back,”

Dooku spoke then. “As it always is. My old Masters and elders were of the opinion they could choose no wrong answer,” He sneered. “And thus will be their downfall,”

Anakin shivered. He rarely had premonitions, but just then he imagined a Temple burning.

“What say you, Skywalker?”

He straightened. Looking into the yellow glow that was hidden behind Sidious’s sagging skin.

“There is no going back,” He admitted. “I’ve killed three Mandalorian assassins, but the Jedi will not see it as anything less than murder... I’ve... I’ve touched the dark and find myself disinclined to try and shy away from it,” He smiled, a little secret smile to himself. “It’s just another part of the Force, after all,”

Dooku and Sidious laughed, together.

“What wisdom!” Sidious crowed. “The Fallen Jedi has learned what takes us fifteen years to beat into our Apprentices,”

“Most impressive, young Skywalker, congratulations on your fall,”

Anakin wasn’t sure what to say to that, but when it doubt - bow. So he did.

“And you, Obi-Wan,” Dooku said. “A Jedi, you have made Fall. A powerful Jedi. With your Master’s permission, this is a knightable offense. Do you feel you are ready to take on the mantle of Lord of the Sith?”

“I do, Lord Tyrannus,” Obi-Wan said, holding his breath.

“Lord Othello?”

Qui-Gon snorted loudly. “Obi-Wan seduced the Chosen One to the dark side, of course, I agree,”

Sidious smiled, that horrible smile, that was as honest as it was terrifying. “Then rise, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and take on your new title of Darth Capere, Lord of the Sith, and take your place among us with your Fallen Jedi.”

All in all, Anakin thought as they wrapped it up and stood. Not the weirdest Council he had ever been to.

* * *

1 Year Later

Anakin sat very, very still as Tahl began to sing the dark blue ink beneath his skin. It was a lengthy process but rewarding. They did not use needles, but rather strong-armed the Force into keeping the ink under the skin, allowing it to grow organically as it pleased following the heartlines and the wishes of the Force. The process was only really able to be done with some semblance of the light-side. The dark side and the light-side had to merge together to form a tattoo of this caliber and level of corruption. _And it hurt like a mother-fucker,_ Anakin thought as he clenched his teeth.

“What does it look like it will be?” Anakin asked, as she went to grab another glop of forest green.

“A mask of some kind,” She said, and there was a smirk. “There is also a branch merging around your throat,”

Anakin groaned.

“At least we fucking know the Force has a sense of humor,” He said, even as he blushed. A collar. The tattoo around his neck was as good as a claiming mark.

His lips twitched, even in his exasperation.

The Force wasn’t wrong, either. Obi-Wan was his Master, always would be. It was still weird to consider, since Fallen Jedi did not usually take on the Sith training, but rather became assassins, or artisans, or any number of things that the Sith needed for their world to continue turning.

It was almost like a feeder program - like their Jedi Corps. But instead of growing it within house, they stole from the Jedi.

Anakin was a mechanic, an engineer, as well as a Sith Apprentice. Tahl had laughed straight in his face at that, and when Anakin had demanded a more substantive answer than, “It’s just fucking funny, is all, kid,” she just waved him off. Not that he didn’t know already.

Their conversation from a year ago weighed on him often.

So powerful that they needed Sith minders. He wanted to shake his head at the weirdness of it all, except that it fit. Anakin could never control himself as well as he could when Obi-Wan was around, and when Obi-Wan was gone, he had trouble focusing, leading his power correctly, as well as generally just being a useful member of society. It was aggravating, but worth it.

“Done!” Tahl said, pulling back.

“Already?” Anakin asked, shaking himself and poking his cheek. Tahl slapped his hand away for that.

“The tattoo is following the Force, now, and it should settle within the next few months, but you can see what it’s outline is right now,” She handed him a mirror. “Don’t get too drawn in, you sexy beast you, wouldn’t want to bring Obi-Wan in to draw you out of your own reflection,”

“Ha ha,” he said, deadpanned, as he turned the mirror to himself and abruptly stilled.

The lines flowered and flowed, except at their tips and roots were not buds, or anything alive - it all looked like machinery. Cogs, wheels, gears, and the like merged out of nothing in intricate, paper-thin lines that overlapped and writhed against each other, still vying for space. His mouth was covered, while his cheekbones were still growing lines of color - it looked like an intricate mask for the dead or a droid.

“Pretty interesting design there,” Tahl said.

“It’s perfect.” Anakin replied.

And it was.

“We’ll go over concealing them in a few weeks,” Tahl said, showing off how well she make her own hide with nothing more than a forceful thought. Those white lines sunk into her skin like they'd never existed. Another thing Acolytes could do that Jedi couldn’t. Nor that the Jedi had known the Sith Acolytes could do. “It’s a little tricky, but nothing the chosen one won’t pick up.”

“I’ll pick it up fast,” Anakin stated, sure of himself.

Tahl chuckled and got up. “I know you will, Chosen One,” The she called over her shoulder. “Come on out and see, Obi-Wan!”

Sure enough, his Master appeared around the wall. Anakin rolled his eyes. Of course he would be lurking. The weirdo.

“Master,” Anakin stated, with a smile as he rose.

They met somewhere in the middle of where they both were, and Obi-Wan cupped his face almost gently. Firm. Solid. Anakin smiled as he felt Obi-Wan’s wonder overflow from his side of the bond. He was intrigued and impressed.

“Never seen anything like it,” He said, with a smirk, as he pulled Anakin down to his level. His long-skilled fingers skimmed over his neck, “And this is a nice touch,”

The collar. Of course Obi-Wan would be interested in the collar.

“The Force does what the Force does,” Tahl stated sagey, and then she was off. “Have fun you two, I’ve gotta go convince Qui-Gon to fuck my brains out!”

“Not much convincing is gonna need to happen there,” Obi-Wan said to Anakin. “Qui-Gon asked me to go get her. He’s already half-naked,”

Anakin threw his head back and laughed.

What a world he now found himself in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EH, I was going to do an epilogue, but then I thought - "Rose, what the hell are you doing with your life? Go to sleep you, idiot."  
> So sleep deprivations did not win this one. :)  
> I hope I didn't spoil you guys too much with these updates that you'll think I'm some kind of - god I don't know... some put-together adult-person who knows what the hell their life is? Someone who posts on a schedule? - shivers in disgust- Because I am not. I am very much not. I will be working and going to school for about ten hours a day for the next semester, as well as, life things happening. So. There.  
> Hope you guys enjoyed this journey! I had a blast writing it. Thanks for all the kudos, the comments, and the fun laughs and good times!


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